ORTH 


EPING 


, 

• 

' 

.   £2, 


'  -  *   S 


THE  CONGREGATIONALISM 

A  National   Religious  Journal. 


As  a  family  religious  journal,  the  Congregationalist  aims  to  stand  In  the  front 
rank.  Its  editorial  force  is  as  follows  :— 

EDITOR, 
REV.  HENRY  M.  DEXTER,  D.  D. 

NEW  YORK   EDITOR, 

REV.  ALEXANDER  HUNTINGTON  CLAPP,  D.  D. 

MANAGING   EDITOR, 

CHARLES  A.  RICHARDSON. 

ASSOCIATE   EDITORS. 

REV.  MORTON  DEXTER.  MRS.  SARAH  K.  BOLTON. 

AGRICULTURAL    EDITOR. 

HON.  J.  F.  C.  HYDE. 

THE  EDITORIAL  DEPARTMENT  is  intended  to  be  marked  by  special  thorovigh- 
ness  of  research,  freshness  of  thought,  candor  and  accuracy  of  statement,  and  hon- 
orable fealty  to  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,  "as  held  by  our  fathers," 
and  —  in  the  language  of  the  Boston  Council  of  1865  —  "  substantially  as  embodied 
in  the  confessions  and  platforms  which  our  Synods  of  1648  and  1680  set  forth  or  re- 
affirmed." Welcoming  the"  new  so  far  as  it  is  good,  we  cannot  condemn  the  good 
because  it  is  old. 

CORRESPONDENCE.  —  Besides  a  weekly  letter  from  the  Jfew  York  editor,  we 
have  regular  correspondents  at  Washington,  Chicago,  New  Haven,  and  Atlanta, 
and  a  multitude  of  special  correspondents  in  different  pans  of  the  country. 

NEWS  OF  THE  CHI  RCHES.  —  In  this  department  the  paper  is  generally  conceded 
to  have  achieved  a  higher  measure  of  success  than  any  of  its  contemporaries. 
Those  who  wish  to  keep  well  informed  as  to  the  progress  of  events  in  our  Congre- 
gational churches,  especially  those  in  New  England,  often  say  to  us  that  they  can- 
not do  without  the  Cungregationalist  for  tills  reason,  if  for  no  other.  This  news  is 
gathered  from  various  sources  each  week,  and  carefully  condensed  so  as  to  occupy 
the  least  practicable  space. 

BROADSIDES.  —  Another  specialty  of  the  Congregationalist  is  its  plan  of  occa- 
sionally devoting  an  entire  page  to  a  single  topic,  and  concentrating  upon  it  a  large 
variety  of  thought  and  talent.  This  has  proved  a  useful  as  well  as  popular  feature. 

THE  LITERARY  REVIEW  occupies  a  weekly  average  of  at  least  four  columns  of 
space,  and  seeks,  while  fairly  andT  with  considerable  fullness  reviewing  important 
volumes,  to  give  brief  indications  of  the  quality  of  the  lighter  issues  which  swarm 
from  the  modern  press.  This  department  is  edited  in  the  interest  of  book-buyers 
and  readers,  rather  than  that  of  publishers.  Special  attention  is  also  given  to  lit- 
erary news  and  notes. 

THE  CHILDREN'S  DEPARTMENT  contains  a  large  variety,  including  a  puzzle 
department,  poetry,  and  articles  in  large  type  for  the  youngest. 

THE  AGRICULTURAL  DEPARTMENT,  which  is  under  the  charge  of  a  practical 
man  with  large  experience,  we  have  had  occasion  to  know  is  greatly  valued  by 
many  amateur  gardeners  for  the  special  good  sense  of  its  suggestions.  More  or  less 
space  is  also  given  to  household  matters. 

In  short,  the  Congregationalist  is  attractive,  comprehensive,  thoroughly  edited 
In  every  inch  of  its  space,  and  distinctively  evangelical. 

tg^*"Any  person  renewing  his  own  subscription,  and  sending  the  name  of 
one  new  subscriber,  with  the  money,  will  be  entitled  to  a  copy  of  Worth  Keeping, 
as  a  premium,  postpaid. 


FOR  SPECIMEN    COPIES. 

Price,   S3.OO  per  Year. 
"W.    I*.    O-  IR.  IE  IE  35T  IE    &    CO., 

No.  1  Somerset  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

(2) 


WORTH  KEEPING: 


SELECTED   FROM 


Cjxe  C0n0r^0ati0nalist  mtir 


1870-1879. 


BOSTON : 
W.    L.    GREENE    &    CO. 

CONGREGATIONAL  HOUSE, 

CORNER  BEACON  AND  SOMERSET  STREETS, 

i  880. 


COPYRIGHT,    1880. 
BY  W.    L.   GRKENB  &  CO, 


Stereotyped  by  Thomas  Todd, 

Beacon  Press,  1  Somerset  St.,  Boston. 


PREFACE. 


SUCH  has  been  the  success  of  the  two  previous  vol- 
umes made  up  of  articles  from  the  Congregationalist 
("HOUSEHOLD  READING,"  issued  in  1866,  and  "Gooo 
THINGS,"  in  1870),  as  to  show  that  there  is  a  general 
desire  to  possess  in  a  more  permanent  form  than  the 
newspaper  page  sketches,  essays  and  poems  that  have 
attracted  special  attention  at  the  time  of  their  publi- 
cation. With  this  idea  in  mind  " WORTH  KEEPING" 
has  been  selected  as  the  name  for  this  volume;  and, 
like  "GooD  THINGS,"  its  contents  will  be  found  ap- 
propriate for  the  Sabbath  school  library.  The  writers 
are  among  the  most  valued  contributors  to  the  Con- 
gregationalist, and  such  articles  have  been  selected 
as  will  not  be  likely  to  lie  upon  the  library  shelves 
unused. 

The  book  is  designed  for  family  reading,  and  while 
but  few  of  its  chapters  can  be  classed  properly  as 
juvenile,  most  of  them  are  such  as  may  be  expected 

(5) 


6  Preface. 

to  interest  young  people  as  well  as  those  of  a  more 
mature  age. 

Being  fragmentary  in  its  contents,  the  book  has  the 
advantage  of  great  variety,  and  of  articles  from  many 
different  writers,  thus  possessing  especial  attractiveness 
as  a  book  to  lie  upon  the  center  table  for  use  in  odd 
minutes  and  for  a  spare  half  hour. 

A  fair  idea  may  be  gathered  from  its  pages  of  the 
general  character,  scope  and  value  of  the  Congregation- 
alist,  considered  especially  as  a  family  religious  news- 
paper. 


CONTENTS, 


PROSE. 

9 

OUTRIDING  A  CYCLONE  AT  SEA.    Rev.  C.  L.  Goodell,  D.  D.     .       .       .  9 

AWAKENING  A  COMFORTABLE  SLEEPER.    Mrs.  Grace  Webster  Hinsdale.  16 

DID  WHAT  HE  COULD.    Rev.  H.  M.  Dexter,  D.  D 21 

THE  BIBLE  IN  THE  CLOSET.    Rev.  W.  M.  Taylor,  D.  D 29 

A  CONSPICUOUS  CONVERSION.    Rev.  J.  L.  Withrow,  D.  D.        .        .        .34 

CONCERNING  CLUB  HOUSES.    Rev.  A.  H.  Quint,  D.  D 40 

AFTER  MANY  DAYS.     Fanny  J.  Dyer. 46 

A  TALK  WITH  MINISTERS.    Rev.  A.  J.  F.  Behrends,  D.  D.  .        .51 

CASUISTRY  OF  THE  CONFESSIONAL 58 

A  REMARKABLE  CONVERSION.    Mrs.  Marie  B.  Williams 60 

WATCH  AND  CARE.    Rev.  Morton  Dexter. 66 

THE  FEAST  OF  THE  ESCALADE.    Rev.  Leonard  W.  Bacon,  D.  D.     .        .  68 

How  TO  READ  HISTORY.     Mrs.  Annie  Sawyer  Downs 78 

FEAR  AS  A  MOTIVE  IN  RELIGION.    Rev.  A.  J.  Titsworth.          ...  83 

YUNG  WING.    Rev.  J.  H.  Twichell 88 

GONE.     Edward  Abbott. 99 

A  TALK  WITH  GIRLS.    Mrs.  Sarah  K.  Bolton.     .        . '      .        .       .        .103 

BARONESS  BUNSEN.    Rev.  W.  L.  Gage.       .        .       *•       ....  108 

WILL  SMITH'S  ADVENTURE.    B.  P.  Shillaber.    -<^ 114, 

BE  NOT  A  JACK  AT  ALL  TRADES.    J.  B.  T.  Marsh 123 

BAD  BOOKS.    Mrs.  A.  S.  Richardson. 128 

CRITICISMS  OF  REVIVALS.    Prof.  Austin  Phelps,  D.  D 135 

ZOOLOGICAL  GARDENS  AT  NINEVEH.    Rev.  Selah  Merrill,  D.  D.      */   .  140 

WHO  WAS  MRS.  BBARDSLEY'S  NEIGHBOR?    Rose  Terry  Cooke.       ,        .  144, 

JESUS,  FIRST  AND  LAST.    Rev.  T.  L.  Cuyler. 155 

ONLY  A  STEP-MOTHER.    Mrs.  J.  D.  Chaplin 160 

LESSONS  LEARNED  BY  SICKNESS.    Rev.  A.  H.  Clapp,  D.  D.              .        .  167 

HIRAM  LYNDE'S  EXPERIMENT.    Sarah  P.  Brigham.           ....  172 

MIRACLES.    Rev.  J.  H.  Seelye,  D.  D 180 

A  FUNERAL  SCENE.    C.  A.  Richardson 185 

THE  RULING  FASHION  IN  DEATH.    Elihu  Burritt 189 

SOME  NEEDLESS  ASPERITIES  OF  LIFE.    Mrs.  M.  E.  Sangster.  .        .        .196 

JOSEI-H  HERON'S  RESOLUTION.    Mary  L.  Washburn           ....  202 

(7) 


8  Contents. 

How  THE  QUESTION  WAS  ANSWERED.  *feev.  H.  C.  Hitchcock. .        .        .  208 

THE  SALEM  SUFFERER.    Rev.  J.  UPHAM,  D.  D 217 

SOCIALISM  IN  GERMANY.    Rev.  Joseph  P.  Thompson,  D.  D.     .        .        .  220 

MR.  THOMPSON'S  SIN.    Rev.  J.  J.  Dana 226 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.     Rev.  E.  P.  Tenney 233 

ONLY  A  JOKE.     Mrs.  Annie  A.  Preston 240 

MR.  FINNEY  IN  A  MOMENT  OF  PERIL,    Eben  Wheelwright.       .       .        .  245 

ANSWERING  A  FOOL  ACCORDING  TO  His  FOLLY.    Rev  E.  Pond,  D.  D.    .  250 

THE  RUSSIAN  NIHILISTS.    George  M.  Towle 255 

MAN  PROPOSES  BUT  GOD  DISPOSES.     Mrs.  Julia  P.  Ballard.       .        .        .  260 

THE  STRANGER'S  TESTIMONY.     Mrs.  Helen  C.  Barnard 264 

EXPERIENCE  WITH  TRAMPS.    Rev.  F.  B.  Makepeace.         .     « .       .        .270 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  DR.  KIRK.    H.  L.  Hammond 277 

How  A  MAN  OVER  EIGHTY  YEARS  OLD  FOUND  CHRIST.    H.  L.  Reade.  .  281 

CHRISTIAN  WORK.    K.  A.  Burnell 286 

MARK,  THE  POOR  MAN'S  GOSPEL.     Frederick  Vinton 290 

How  AN  ENGLISHMAN  GETS  BURIED.    Rev.  J.  C.  Bodwell,  D.  D.    .        .  295 

THE  CHINESE  IN  CALIFORNIA.    Joseph  Cook 301 

START  RIGHT.    Rev.  J.  S.  Ives 308 

WRITING  DOWN  THE  BIBLE.    Rev.  Washington  Gladden.          .       .       .  309 

HINDERING  INQUIRERS.    Rev.  A.  H.  Plumb 316 


POETRY. 

ONLY  ME.    Mrs.  C.  A.  Mason .  15 

OUR  CHRIST.    Lucy  Larcom.        , 28 

ONLY  TO-DAY.    Rev.  W.  R.  Cochrane 45 

THE  UNHARMED  ROCK.     Rev.  Ray  Palmer,  D.  D 76 

FIVE  YEARS  IN  HEAVEN.    Mrs.  M.  F.  Butts.      .        .      jf     .       .       .  107 

THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  MOON.    Edgar  Fawcett.     *^  ....  133 

NEVER  AND  No  MORE.    Charlotte  F.  Bates 179 

TOIL  AND  REST.     Rev.  I.  N.  Tarbox,  D.  D 201 

"  I  HAVE  CALLED  You  FRIENDS."    E.  Stuart  Phelps 207 

LOVE'S  ESTIMATE.     Mrs.  Helen  Angell  Goodwin 216 

AMBITION.    Mrs.  Mary  B.  Dodge. •        .        .  232 

UNDER  THE  LILIES.    Fletcher  Bates 244 

WHAT  PINKIE-BLUE  DON'T  KNOW.    Ella  Farman 254 

IN  MB,  O  LORD,  ABIDE.     Rev.  J.  E.  Rankin,  D.  D.           ....  259 

THE  TRUE  HEROIC.     Alfred  B.  Street 289 

WHITE  VIOLETS.     Mrs.  Clara  Doty  Bates 307 

THE  BABY'S  DRESSES.    Mrs.  Rebecca  Perley  Reed. 313 


OUTRIDING  A  CYCLONE  AT  SEA. 


from  Europe  in  September, 
1875,  our  steamship  was  struck  in  mid- 
,ocean  at  daybreak  by  a  cyclone.  The  sea 
had  been  vexed  by  autumn  gales,  and  the  waves 
contrary  for  some  days.  But  this  black  angel 
spread  his  wings  on  the  water  without  warning. 
A  cyclone  moves  with  the  stealth  and  spring  of  a 
panther.  The  shock  was  sudden,  tremendous, 
awful.  The  blast  of  the  tempest,  riding  the  gulf 
stream  all  the  way  from  the  heated  tropics,  was 
like  the  breath  of  a  fiery  furnace.  It  was  the 
same  cyclone  which  damaged  Galveston,  and  tear- 
ing through  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  swept  up  the 
Atlantic  coast  and  out  upon  the  ocean,  spreading 
wreck  and  death. 

Our  iron  ship  was  stanch  and  well  manned, 
but  the  first  swirl  of  the  whirlwind,  traveling  in 
its  might  like  a  majestic  cylinder  of  fire-storm, 
stripped  a  portion  of  the  guards  and  boats  from 
the  deck,  and  carried  one  of  the  crew  into  the 
sea,  breaking  his  leg.  He  caught  a  stray  rope 
and  was  rescued.  The  man  at  the  wheel  lost 
control  of  the  vessel  for  a  little,  and  veering 

(q) 


io  Worth  Keeping. 

round,  she  went  into  the  trough  of  the  sea.  The 
great  billows  instantly  flooded  and  submerged 
her,  and  the  sea-water  poured  down  the  hatch- 
way and  through  the  sky-lights  on  the  deck  like 
falls  of  a  mill-dam.  Those  in  the  saloon,  feeling 
the  roll  of  the  ship,  the  waves  going  over  her, 
and  seeing  the  green  water  starred  with  foam  at 
the  port-holes,  and  in  the  descending  cataract 
within,  threatening  to  fill  every  room  and  cabin  in 
the  ship,  will  never  forget  the  scene.  This  was 
repeated  several  times.  The  wind  blew  so  fiercely 
that  the  waves  were  cut  off  completely  by  it,  and 
leveled  like  a  floor,  and  the  foam  made  it  look  white 
and  fleecy,  like  wool  spread  out  upon  a  plain. 

The  ship  could  not  be  guided  into  the  teeth  of 
the  wind  at  right  angles  with  the  waves,  but  must 
be  made  to  "  quarter  on,"  striking  each  wave  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  In  this  way  there  was 
a  constant  strain  on  the  machinery,  tending  to  force 
the  ship  round  parallel  with  the  waves,  so  she  would 
roll  helplessly  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  and  soon  go 
to  pieces.  The  trial  of  her  strength  in  this  way, 
hour  after  hour,  was  fearfully  great.  When  the 
stern  would  be  down  in  the  water,  and  the  prow 
climbing  a  wave,  the  cut  of  the  iron  ship  upon  it 
sounded  as  if  it  were  grating  on  the  side  of  a  vast 
granite  rock,  making  the  whole  ship  tremble  as  she 
labored  staggeringly  over  it.  Then,  in  going  down 
on  the  other  side,  the  stern  of  the  ship  would  be 
lifted  from  the  water,  and  the  increased  speed  of 


Outriding  a  Cyclone  at  Sea.  1 1 

the  great  propelling  screw,  freed  from  the  resist- 
ance of  the  water  and  driven  by  the  force  of  a 
thousand  horse  power,  would  shake  and  jar  the 
ship  as  if  it  were  coming  to  pieces.  The  passen- 
gers assembled  in  the  dining-saloon  and  clung  to 
tables  and  sofas  and  chairs  round  the  room,  which 
were  chained  to  the  floor.  It  was  impossible  to 
walk,  or  sit,  or  recline,  without  holding  on  to  some 
object  with  great  firmness.  Many  were  thrown 
and  tossed  about  like  footballs,  and  much  injured. 
For  eighteen  hours  this  stress  of  weather  was  on 
us.  For  eighteen  hours,  with  few  interruptions,  I 
sat  on  the  edge  of  a  sofa,  clinging  to  a  table  before 
me ;  my  wife  lying  on  the  sofa,  and  I  bracing  back 
against  her  so  as  to  keep  her  from  being  thrown 
upon  the  floor.  It  was  a  severe  test  of  physical 
endurance.  The  sun  rose  and  found  us  there  ;  it 
set  and  left  us  there.  It  was  not  until  near  mid- 
night that  the  winds  began  to  abate.  Then  for 
hours  the  sickening  roll  of  the  retiring  waves  was 
very  trying  in  our  state  of  exhaustion.  It  was  a 
long  time  to  endure  hardness. 

After  the  danger  of  the  first  shock  was  passed, 
the  ship's  power  to  resist  before  it  must  give  way 
was  only  a  question  of  time.  Strained  fo  the 
utmost  in  every  part,  the  time  was  coming  when  it 
must  weaken  somewhere.  Neither  could  the  brave 
and  faithful  men  who  manned  her  long  hold  out. 
Any  moment  some  seam  might  open  in  the  ship, 
some  part  of  the  toiling  machinery  break,  and  all 


12  Worth  Keeping. 

be  over.  The  sea  was  lashed  into  fury  in  its  hights 
and  depths.  Death  sat  on  the  floods.  Peril  looked 
in  at  the  windows.  The  roar  and  tumult  was  ter- 
rific. We  were  1,500  miles  from  shore  each  way. 
There  was  but  a  plank  between  us  and  eternity. 

For  the  first  fifteen  minutes,  when  death  seemed 
inevitable,  my  shrinking  and  recoil  from  death  was 
very  strong.  It  was  a  terror  to  think  of  being  cast 
into  such  an  angry,  surging  sea.  Then  came  the 
thought,  I  cannot  give  up  my  work  for  Christ  now ; 
His  service  is  a  joy,  and  in  my  strength  I  want  to 
live  and  toil  for  Him.  After  this  came  thoughts 
of  my  children  and  friends,  and  my  church  in  St. 
Louis.  I  said  in  my  heart,  my  work  is  not  done. 
I  cannot  part  with  them  now.  Lord,  spare  me 
from  this  hour.  When  this  tide  of  thought  and 
emotion  had  swept  swiftly  past,  it  was  as  if  Jesus 
came  to  me  walking  on  the  sea.  My  heart  leaped 
out  to  Him  in  complete  assurance  and  rest.  "  Per- 
fect love  casteth  out  fear."  From  that  moment  He 
was  my  refuge,  and  all  burden  went.  There  was  a 
great  calm  in  my  soul.  Heaven  seemed  near  and 
unutterably  precious.  The  bright  way  to  it  through 
the  crystal  waters  appeared  short  and  beautiful  as 
a  pavement  of  emerald.  There  was  a  feeling  of 
resignation  and  readiness,  then  and  there,  in  the 
midst  of  the  boiling,  tempestuous  sea,  to  go  home 
to  the  Heavenly  Father's  house.  From  that  early 
point  to  the  end,  I  was  permitted  to  minister  to 
others. 


Outriding  a  Cyclone  at  Sea.  13 

The  occasion  required  a  soul  calm  and  serene 
and  confident  in  God.  The  crash  of  the  sea  and 
the  revels  of  the  wind,  and  the  thunder  of  the  far 
deep  were  mingled  with  the  shrieks  and  groans  of 
the  affrighted  passengers.  Under  the  influence  of 
fear  the  eyes  protruded  as  in  strangulation  and 
drowning.  All  classes  were  in  prayer,  asking 
mercy  and  seeking  piteously  to  be  directed.  The 
interest  in  personal  salvation  was  instant  and  uni- 
versal. A  Jew  sat  at  my  feet  fifteen  hours,  leaving 
only  at  the  briefest  intervals.  The  group  around 
me,  clinging  to  their  holds,  listened  to  the  words 
of  salvation  as  for  their  lives.  The  Bible  seemed 
builded  as  an  armory  wherein  hung  a  thousand 
promises,  all  mighty  shields  for  men  in  the  perils 
of  the  sea.  The  Old  Volume  and  the  New,  Christ 
and  the  Apostles,  all  spake  for  "  those  who  go  down 
to  the  sea  in  ships  and  do  business  in  great  waters." 

Every  few  minutes  I  tore  a  blank  leaf  from  my 
note-book,  and  my  wife,  as  I  steadied  her,  writing 
down  some  wonderful  promise  of  God,  the  paper 
was  passed  round  the  whole  circle  from  hand  to 
hand,  and  read  with  intense  interest  and  comfort, 
each  one  in  turn  looking  up  at  the  writer  with  a 
glance  of  grateful  recognition.  Some  of  the  pas- 
sages will  readily  recur  to  the  reader : 

When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with 
thee ;  and  through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee. 
Is.  xliii  :  2. 

He  commandeth  and  raiseth  the  stormy  wind.    Their 


*4  Worth  Keeping. 

soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble.  Then  they  cry  unto  the 
Lord  in  their  trouble,  and  he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  dis- 
tresses. Ps.  cvii :  25-28, 

At  length  God  lifted  his  frown  from  the  sea  and 
visited  us  with  His  smile.  "  He  maketh  the  storm 
a  calm.  So  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still."  On 
the  Sabbath  that  followed,  praise  and  gratitude  to 
God  rose  in  the  worship  like  incense.  There  were 
no  dry  eyes  or  indifferent  hearts.  Many  who  had 
been  the  most  reckless  in  their  excesses  and  pro- 
fanity, said  :  "  Our  prayers  and  our  trust  in  Christ, 
commenced  in  storm,  shall  never  cease  in  calm." 

The  experience  was  of  great  value.  I  know  now 
how  it  will  seem  to  die.  It  is  going  home  in  the 
light  and  peace  of  Christ.  I  know  the  keeping 
power  of  our  Lord  in  the  hour  of  mortal  terror  and 
fear.  I  know  the  might  of  His  arm  to  uplift  and 
cheer  the  soul  in  its  extremities.  I  know  the 
wondrous  sweetness  of  His  grace  and  love  when 
human  strength  fails.  I  know  that  the  near 
approaches  to  Him  are  like  sunrise  to  the  soul, 
and  that  the  entrance  ways  to  His  presence  cham- 
ber, through  one  of  which  I  glanced,  are  filled  with 
the  brightness  of  the  King's  countenance  and  the 
gleam  of  angelic  hosts.  When  the  gates  of  light 
swing  before  us,  and  we  enter  into  the  joy  of  our 
Lord,  it  will  be  a  moment  of  supreme  inspiration 
and  gladness.  Since  that  day  when  God  hid  me  in 
his  pavilion  and  taught  me,  I  have  been,  I  trust,  a 
better  guide  to  souls  in  need,  in  the  house  of  prayer, 


"Only  Me."  15 

and  in  the  chambers  of  pain  and  suffering.  I  asked 
for  the  redemption  of  a  hundred  souls  that  year. 
I  record  it  to  the  praise  of  God  that  He  gave  that 
number  and  more. 

There  is  a  cleft  in  the  rock  for  refuge  from  the 
frenzy  of  the  storm,  and  hidden  manna  for  the 
soul.  We  can  say  with  Christ,  "  I  have  meat  to 
eat  that  ye  know  not  of." 


"ONLY  ME." 


A  LITTLE  figure  glided  through  the  hall ; 

"  Is  that  you,  Pet?  "  —  the  words  came  tenderly; 
A  sob  —  suppressed  to  let  the  answer  fall  — 

"It  isn't  Pet,  mamma;  it's  only  me." 

The  quivering  baby  lips  !  —  they  had  not  meant 
To  utter  any  word  could  plant  a  sting, 

But  to  that  mother-heart  a  strange  pang  went ; 
She  heard,  and  stood  like  a  convicted  thing! 

One  instant,  and  a  happy  little  face 

Thrilled  'neath  unwonted  kisses  rained  above : 
And,  from  that  moment,  "  Only  Me  "  had  place 

And  part  with  "  Pet "  in  tender  mother-love. 


1 6  Worth  Keeping. 


AWAKING  A  COMFORTABLE  SLEEPER. 


jjOME  years  ago  there  was  a  threatened 
dilapidation  of  my  physical  house.  I 
attempted  to  avert  the  calamity,  and 
obtained  from  my  physician  two  excellent  and  very 
different  prescriptions  —  one  was  a  mixture  of  all 
the  tonics  concerning  which  he  had  any  knowledge, 
leaving  out  the  ingredients  which  Septimius  Felton 
added,  with  such  fatal  confidence,  to  the  marvelous 
drink  which  poor  Aunt  Kezia  loved  to  decoct! 
The  other  was  a  trip  to  Europe  ! 

Does  any  one  feel  more  secure  in  his  second 
voyage  than  he  does  on  the  first  ?  in  the  twentieth 
than  he  did  on  the  tenth  ?  I  believe  not,  for  a 
friend  who  has  crossed  the  ocean  forty  times  told 
me  that  his  last  voyage  was  accomplished  with  an 
increased  sense  of  the  dangers  of  the  sea.  So  I 
am  not  in  the  least  ashamed  to  admit  my  fear  of 
disaster  on  my  return  trip,  and  on  board  one  of  the 
stanchest  ships  which  crosses  the  Atlantic. 

It  happened  that  I  was  obliged  to  share  my  state- 
room with  a  stranger.  As  I  looked  over  the  list  of 
passengers,  I  remembered  that  I  had  known  many 
persons  in  America  of  the  same  name  as  this  lady 


Awaking  a  Comfortable  Sleeper,  17 

who  was  booked  for  the  upper  berth  in  our  state- 
room, but  as  I  did  not  know  the  particular  family 

of  s  to  which  she  belonged,  I  could  not  guess 

her  probable  characteristics,  physical  or  otherwise- 
How  this  lady  discerned  me  on  the  tug  which  took 
us  from  the  dock  at  Liverpool  to  the  ship,  I  never 
understood ;  but  after  a  few  minutes  she  came  to 
me  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  said :  "  I  believe  we 
are  to  spend  these  ten  days  together."  I  replied  : 

"  This,  then,  is  Miss .     I'm  glad  to  see  you  ; 

and  (my  mind  was  convinced  by  the  first  sight  of 
her  true-hearted,  generous  countenance),  I've  no 
doubt  that  we  shall  agree  in  our  small  apartment, 
and  enjoy  the  voyage  ! "  We  examined  each  other 
as  to  our  expectations  in  regard  to  sea-sickness, 
and  I,  in  an  undertone,  expressed  the  hope  that  she 
would  not  be  "  timid,"  but  that  I  might  find  my 
courage  growing  stronger  in  the  strength  of  her* 
companionship.  My  anxious  face  and  inquiries 
were  met  with  joyous  and  inspiring  smiles,  and  the 
most  assuring  cheery  talk.  How  gentle  and  kind 
is  the  gracious  providence  of  God  toward  me,  I 
thought.  This  dear  good  soul  will  minister  sun- 
shine and  comfort  to  me,  whether  the  days  are 
stormy  or  serene ! 

This  lady  was  not  a  duplicate  of  every  third 
woman  whom  you  may  meet ;  she  was  pleasantly 
and  interestingly  unique.  There  is  no  sign  of  good 
nature  and  of  honest  earnestness  which  she  lacked. 
Half  her  breadth  would  almost  have  measured  me 


1 8  Worth  Keeping. 

from  shoulder  to  shoulder;  her  full  blue  eyes 
were  clear  and  merry,  and  her  entire  figure 
had  a  firm,  stalwart  expression,  which  did  not 
in  the  least  detract  from  her  gentle  and  womanly 
bearing. 

"  One  at  a  time,"  being  the  rule  we  had  adopted, 
I  preceded  my  friend  the  second  night,  and  was 
comfortably  out  of  the  way  when  she  came  down. 
In  the  most  orderly  fashion  my  companion  prepared 
herself  for  rest,  and  with  admirable  agility  she 
climbed  into  her  berth.  I  felt  rather  ashamed  not 
to  offer  her  the  lower  bed,  and  save  her  this  exer- 
tion, but  I  expected  to  be  thrown  to  the  floor  every 
night  by  the  rolling  of  the  ship,  and  selfishly 
dreaded  the  distance  from  the  upper  berth.  There's 
something  about  the  sea  which  produces  a  deaden- 
ing effect  upon  one's  generosity.  After  expressing 
hopes  for  each  other's  comfort,  we  began  our  night's 
work  of  sleeping.  I  had  toiled  at  it  for  about  two 
hours,  when  some  extra  violence  of  the  waves 
roused  me  to  full  consciousness,  and  set  my  heart 
beating  with  the  most  agitating  fear.  I  listened  to 
the  steady,  undisturbed  breathing  above  me  till  I 
could  bear  it  no  longer,  and,  raising  the  curtain  a 
trifle,  I  awoke  that  comfortable  sleeper  with  this 
miserably  weak  and  timid  question  : 

"  Miss  ,  are  you  awake  ?  (I  knew  she 

wasn't).  Don't  you  think  that  the  ship  is  going 
very  fast,  and  isn't  it  pitching  dreadfully  ?  " 

Not  vexed  at  all  with  my  disturbing  her  slumbers, 


Awaking  a  Comfortable  Sleeper.  19 

my  good  friend  at  once  replied,  in  a  tone  of  assur- 
ing confidence  : 

"  Oh,  no  ;  why  this  is  nothing  !  You  ought  to 
have  come  over  with  us  last  spring  ;  we  had  a 
storm  then  that  shook  the  ship  and  tossed  her 
about  like  a  plaything,  but  we  rode  right  through  it 
safely  enough ! " 

"  Well,  don't  you  think  the  motion  is  singular 
tc-night ;  it  seems  to  me  as  if  "  —  she  would  not 
let  me  fill  out  the  measure  of  possible  terror  by 
expressing  all  I  felt,  but  she  tried  to  cheer  my 
spirits  and  enliven  my  views  of  ocean  life.  At  last 
we  ceased  talking  and  I  lay  still,  absorbed  in  dismal 
calculations  as  to  the  depth  of  the  sea  beneath  the 
bottom  planks  of  the  ship ! 

By  and  by  I  heard  a  gentle  stirring,  and  in  tones 
which  showed  her  fear  of  waking  me,  as  she  leaned 
over  the  edge  of  the  berth,  my  companion  put  this 
question  to  my  astonished  ears  : 

"  Did  you  ever  chew  gum  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,"  I  replied  ;  "  I  have  in  my  childhood 
chewed  it ;  but  I  don't  think  I  want  any  now." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  want  any  gum,  just  chew  on 
this:  'Commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord,  and  He  shall 
direct  thy  paths'  Now,  dear,  if  you  are  going  to 
the  bottom,  the  Lord  knows  it,  and  orders  it ;  and 
He  will  go  with  you  !  " 

"Thank  you,"  I  said;  "that  is  a  good  verse  to 
chew  on ;  I'll  try  to  think  of  it,  and  sleep  on  it." 

My  friend  was  soon  rocked  to  rest  by  the  very 


2O  Worth  Keeping. 

billows  which  had  troubled  me,  and  I  grew  more 
calm  as  I  summoned  my  faith  to  control  my  fear- 
The  thought  of  God  was  sweet  and  comforting  to 
my  heart  in  that  lonely  hour  on  the  sea.  Commit- 
ting myself  to  my  Father's  will  and  love,  I  slept  in 
peace,  till  the  morning  called  us  up  to  the  sunny 
deck.  "  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  for  the  eyes  to  behold 
the  light  of  the  sun "  at  sea ;  and  it  is  a  blessed 
thing,  too,  to  get  a  little  sunshine  from  your  neigh- 
bor's- faith  when  the  heavens  are  dark,  an:l  the 
waters  are  round  about  you  on  every  side ! 


Did  What  He  Could.  21 


DID  WHAT  HE  COULD. 


|E  wasn't  much,  anyway.  He  was  getting 
old.  He  was  plain  in  look,  to  the  verge  of 
ugliness.  He  had  a  great  black  blotch  on 
one  side  of  his  face.  He  was  illiterate;  it  was 
as  much  as  he  could  well  do  with  his  stubby  old 
pen  to  make  out  his  few  accounts  with  >his  custom- 
ers. His  hands  were  hard  with  blacksmithing ; 
and  his  often-bloated  cheeks  were  seldom,  even  on 
Sundays,  wholly  free  from  the  smut  thereof.  He 
was  poor.  Probably  he  shod  many  a  horse  which 
would  sell  almost  any  day  at  auction  for  more 
dollars  than  all  he  was  himself  worth.  He  had  a 
bad  habit  of  drinking  intoxicants,  and  had  been 
known  to  spend  the  night  in  the  gutter.  Moreover, 
as  such  men  almost  always  are,  he  was  profane. 
Little  children  have  been  known  to  be  afraid  to  go 
by  his  small  shop  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  lest  they 
should  overhear  him  swearing  terribly,  in  a  rage 
with  some  horse  or  ox  which  was  skittish  about 
being  shod,  and  bothered  him ;  it  was  so  frightful 
to  hear  him  then. 

No,  he  wasn't  much,  anyway ! 

But  he  had  an  immortal  soul  under  this  rude  and 


22  Worth  Keeping. 

rough  outside,  and  he  knew  it.  And  some  kind  of 
a  future  stretched  before  him  through  the  eterni- 
ties, and  he  knew  that.  His  mother  —  who  had 
been  sleeping  more  than  half  a  century  in  the  little 
mossy,  bushes-over-grown  grave-yard,  in  sight  over 
the  fields  from  his  front  door  —  used  to  love  him, 
and  pray  for  him,  and  with  her  last  breath  conse- 
crated him  to  God,  and  begged  him  to  do  what  he 
could  that  was  good,  for  her  sake ;  and  he  knew 
that. 

One  evening  the  church-bell  rang.  It  didn't 
often  ring  then.  But  some  strange  minister  was 
paying  a  visit  to  the  aged  pastor,  and  had  consented 
to  preach  for  him  that  evening,  and  so  the  bell  was 
rung,  just  at  sundown.  When  its  first  notes 
floated  off  over  the  hills,  the  people,  as  they  heard 
it,  thought  some  one  was  suddenly  dead  (for  they 
remembered  no  townsman  known  to  be  lying  near 
his  end),  and  listened  to  count  the  strokes,  if  they 
might  guess  whom  it  might  be ;  but  they  soon  per- 
ceived that  it  was  ringing,  and  not  tolling,  and  so 
they  knew  no  one  was  dead,  but  that  there  was  a 
"  meeting "  out  of  due  time.  So  they  hurried  up 
with  their  evening  chores,  made  themselves  tidy, 
and  started  as  quickly  as  they  could ;  and  by  the 
time  the  bell  rang  its  second  ringing,  the  "  teams  " 
were  coming  in  sight  from  various  directions,  and, 
one  by  one,  tying  up  for  the  evening  in  the  horse- 
sheds,  as  fishing  vessels  moor  at  the  wharves  when 
their  day's  work  is  done. 


Did  Wltat  He  Could.  23 

The  blacksmith  had  had  a  good  day.  He  had 
shod  four  horses  and  six  oxen,  and  made  a  good 
thing  of  it  The  animals  had  all  behaved  well. 
He  himself  had  behaved  well.  He  hadn't  drank 
a  drop  of  rum  for  a  month  —  wonderful  for 
him.  He  didn't  remember  that  he  had  said  a 
bad  word  that  day  —  still  more  wonderful  for 
him.  It  was  partly  due,  and  he  confessed  it  to 
himself,  as  he  thought  it  over,  to  the  fact  that  a 
very  sweet,  pure  young  girl  —  she  might  be  five- 
and-twenty — who  now  and  then,  at  long  intervals, 
rode  by  from  the  next  town,  had  stopped  that  morn- 
ing to  get  him  to  re-set  a  shoe  which  her  horse  had 
just  cast.  While  he  was  at  work,  she  talked  to 
him  —  as  "if  he  were  somebody;"  and  she  had 

said  :  "  Thank  you  very  much,  Mister ,"  when 

she  paid  him  and  cantered  away.  This  had  made 
him  feel  all  day  more  as  if  he  were  somebody  than 
usual,  and  had  combined  with  other  things  to  make 
a  good  day  for  him.  He  was  sitting  on  the  great 
flat  stone  doorstep  just  outside  the  front  door  of 
his  small  cottage  —  where  he  used  often  to  smoke 
his  pipe  of  an  evening,  and  was  just  filling  that 
pipe  for  a  smoke,  when  he  heard  the  first  notes  of 
the  bell.  And  when  he  had  heard  enough  to 
decide  that  it  was  not  a  mortuary  announcement, 
but  a  call  to  worship,  he  said  to  himself :  "  I  haven't 
felt  so  much  like  a  man  for  a  year;  I  feel  like 
going  ;  I  guess  I'll  wash  up  and  go.  Maybe  some 
great  speaker  will  be  there  ! " 


24  Worth  Keeping. 

So  he  washed  up,  and  got  out  his  faithful  swallow- 
tail, made  of  blue  cloth  with  flat  brass  buttons, 
which  had  done  duty  for  ever  so  many  years,  since 
he  married  his  last  wife,  at  weddings  and  funerals, 
and  when  he  did  go  to  meeting  on  Sundays  — 
which,  truth  to  tell,  was  now  growing  to  be  very 
seldom  ;  and  walked  leisurely  up  to  the  top  of  the 
hill  on  whose  side  he  lived,  and  down  the  other 
side,  and  up  another  to  the  church-yard ;  and  after 
sitting  on  the  fence,  and  chatting  with  one  of  his 
neighbors  until  the  second  bell  had  rung  out,  and 
he  could  hear  them  inside  beginning  to  sing  the 
first  hymn,  he  got  slowly  down,  thinking  how  much 
more  spry  he  used  to  be  in  doing  that  thing  years 
ago,  and  went  in  and  took  a  seat  in  a  shady  place 
near  the  door. 

The  service  went  on.  The  good  old  pastor  intro- 
duced his  guest  and  friend  —  a  young  man  who 
"  talked  very  natural "  to  them  for  a  half-hour ; 
taking  for  his  starting-point  the  text  about  the 
woman  of  whom  Jesus  comfortingly  said  :  "  She 
hath  done  what  she  could."  He  made  God's  com- 
mands to,  and  Christ's  claims  upon  men,  seem  easy 
and  just.  He  said  each  can  do  something.  What 
God  wants  is  that.  "  God  is  very  fair.  He  doesn't 
ask  a  blacksmith  to  make  a  gold  watch,  but  to  shoe 
a  horse,  or  make  a  nail,  or  forge  a  great  iron  bolt, 
or  do  something  else  which  he  can  do  perfectly 
well  —  if  he  only  will."  And  our  friend  shrank 
further  into  the  shadow,  as  he  said  within  himself : 


Did  What  He  Could.  2$ 

"  That's  so ;  and  that's^  right.  I  can  do  it,  and  I 
will."  The  young  man — all  unknowing — just  as 
he  was  closing,  got  round  to  this  blacksmith  again. 
He  said  :  "  Now  I  beg  you  all  to  do  God  and  your 
Saviour  this  justice,  to  do  what  .you  can  for  them, 
for  yourselves  and  your  fellow-men.  Not  what 
you  can't  do,  but  what  you  can  do ;  ^surely  it 
is  fair  for  God  to  ask  that !  Perhaps  under  som^ 
of  these  silent  mounds  that  surround  us  here 
[waving  his  hand  toward  the  church-yard]  mol- 
ders  some  tongue  that  once  pleaded  in  dear  dying 
accents  with  some  one  of  you,  to  live  for  God  ? 
Have  you  done  it  ?  Have  you  done  what  you 
could?" 

The  arrow  went  in  between  the  joints.  The 
blacksmith  lingered  under  the  shadow  of  a  horse- 
shed  until  the  retiring  rattle  of  the  last  wagon  was 
still,  and  then  made  his  way  under  the  starlight  to 
the  moss-grown  grave  whose  rusty  headstone  bore 
his  mother's  name.  He  fell  upon  his  knees.  He 
knew,  afterward,  that  he  remained  a  long  time,  and 
that  he  cried  "like  a  child  "  there.  He  scarcely 
knew  how  he  went  home.  He  could  give,  indeed, 
very  little  rational  account  of  his  own  feelings  and 
acts.  His  thoughts  of  God,  and  Christ,  and  of  his 
mother,  were  very  much  mixed  up  together.  But 
he  seemed  to  himself  to  have  had  an  interview  with 
all  three ;  and  to  have  confessed  to  all  three  the 
mean  wickedness  of  his  life ;  and  to  have  carried 
away  the  feeling  that  all  three  had  forgiven  him  — 


26  Worth  Keeping. 

provided  he  would  now  faithfully  begin,  and  never, 
never  stop  doing  "  what  he  could." 

The  next  Sunday,  clean-shaven  and  well-washed, 
he  astonished  the  congregation  by  three  several 
attendances  in  the  house  of  God.  And  in  the 
evening  prayer-meeting  he  amazed  everybody  by 
getting  u£,  and  —  after  a  long  pause  —  saying  : 
"  Good  friends,  I  can  shoe  horses  tolerable,  and 
oxen  some,  and  sich ;  but  I  aint  no  hand  to  talk. 
I  allow  I  haint  done  what  I  could.  And  I'm  awfully 
to  blame.  I  want  you  to  forgive  me.  I  guess  God 
has.  I'm  sure  my  good  old  mother  has.  And  I'm 
bound  to  do  what  I  can,  now.  I  do  love  God.  And 
I'm  sorry  I've  drunk  so,  and  swore  so  ;  and  I  ain't 
a-going  to  do  neither  no  more  —  not  if  I  know  it. 
And  I  love  everybody.  And  I  want  everybody  to 
know  that  the  parson  here,  and  the  deacons,  and 
these  good  brethren  and  sisters,  that  have  kept  this 
meetin'us  runnin'  this  last  forty  year,  while  I've 
been  a-hanging  on  behind  —  and  they  going  up  an 
awful  hard  hill  at  that —  I  want  everybody  to  know 
that  they  wuz  right  all  along,  and  that  I  wuz  just 
as  wrrong  as  —  as  'twould  be  to  try  and  weld  cold 
iron  !  Now  you  see,  as  I  told  you,  I  can't  talk 
none,  but  I  must  do  suthin'  to  let  you  know  that 
I'm  a  changed  man.  It's  dreadful  late  in  the  day; 
but  I  want  you  to  pray  for  me,  that  for  the  rest  o' 
my  life  I  may  be  a  man  that  did  what  he  could  !  " 

Two  months  later  to  a  day,  the  good  parson  told 
his  wife,  as  he  went  in  to  her  sick  chamber  to 


Did  What  He  Could.  27 

report  his  Sabbath  evening  service  :  "  Molly !  that 
old  blacksmith's  speech,  I  almost  think,  has  been 
worth  more  to  the  cause  of  Christ  in  this  place 
than  all  my  forty  years'  preaching ;  surely  I  never 
knew  fifty-nine  persons  converted,  all  at  once  so, 
by  my  sermons  —  and  that's  the  number  up  to 
to-night  that  I  count  as  the  killed  and  mortally 
wounded  from  that  single  broadside." 

"  Ah !  but,  husband  dear,  if  you  hadn't  been 
preaching  the  forty  years,  his  speech  could  not 
have  done  such  execution !  Paul  plants  what 
Apollos  waters." 

"  Yes,  Molly,  and  God  giveth  increase,  as  pleas- 
eth  Him ! " 


28  Worth  Keeping. 


OUR  CHRIST. 


IN  Christ  I  feel  the  heart  of  God 

Throbbing  from  heaven  through  earth: 
Life  stirs  again  within  the  clod  : 
Renewed  in  beauteous  birth, 
The  soul  springs  up,  a  flower  of  prayer, 
Breathing  His  breath  out  on  the  air. 

In  Christ  I  touch  the  hand  of  God, 
From  His  pure  hight  reached  down, 

By  blessed  ways  before  untrod, 
To  lift  us  to  our  crown  — 

Victory  that  only  perfect  is 

Through  loving  sacrifice,  like  His. 

Holding  His  hand,  my  steadied  feet 

May  walk  the  air,  the  seas ; 
On  life  and  death  His  smile  falls  sweet  — 

Lights  up  all  mysteries  : 
Stranger  nor  exile  can  I  be 
In  new  worlds  where  He  leadeth  me. 

Not  my  Christ  only ;  He  is  ours ; 

Humanity's  close  bond ; 
Key  to  its  vast,  unopened  powers, 

Dream  of  our  dreams  beyond. — 
What  yet  we  shall  be,  none  can  tell; 
Now  are  we  His,  and  all  is  well. 


The  Bible  in  the  Closet.  29 


THE  BIBLE  IN  THE  CLOSET. 


|T  is  good  to  read  the  Bible  through ;  but 
our  own  experience  has  given  us  an  utter 
repugnance  to  all  carefully  constructed 
schemes  for  accomplishing  that  end  in  a  given 
time.  In  the  early  days  of  our  spiritual  history,  we 
met  with  such  a  plan  in  the  memoirs  of  McCheyne, 
and  immediately  determined  to  adopt  it ;  but  we 
soon  discovered  that  we  had  bound  ourselves  with 
the  most  galling  chains,  and  we  had  little  or  no 
enjoyment  in  our  Scripture  study  until  we  conclu- 
sively abandoned  the  course  on  which  we  had 
entered.  It  commenced,  if  we  remember  rightly, 
at  three  separate  places.  Genesis,  Isaiah,  and 
Matthew,  and  went  on  at  the  rate  of  so  many  chap- 
ters daily  from  each,  until,  at  the  year's  end,  the 
reader  who  had  the  patience  to  follow  it  came  out 
at  the  Song  of  Solomon,  Malachi,  and  Revelation. 
But  we  found  that  there  was  no  principle  of  asso- 
ciation between  the  three  places  selected.  We  dis- 
covered, also,  that  we  had  burdened  our  consciences 
with  a  fictitious  responsibility,  and  felt  that  we  had 
committed  a  grievous  sin  when  we  did  not  accom- 
plish in  a  day  "  the  tale  "  of  chapters.  In  short,  we 


30  Worth  Keeping. 

were  rapidly  developing  within  us  a  spirit  of  the 
utmost  legalism,  and  were  beginning  to  feel  that 
the  great  end  of  a  religious  life  was  the  regular 
study  of  the  Bible  after  McCheyne's  plan ;  instead 
of  realizing  that  the  perusal  of  the  word  of  God 
was  only  a  means  for  helping  us  to  live  in  a  right, 
noble  and  manly  Christian  manner. 

As  soon  as  we  became  alive  to  the  state  of  the 
case,  we  threw  the  whole  scheme  overboard,  and 
ever  since,  so  far  as  the  enjoyment  of  the  Scrip- 
tures is  concerned,  we  have  luxuriated  in  "the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God."  Some- 
times we  have  taken  more,  and  sometimes  less, 
always  "  as  we  were  able  to  bear  it ; "  and  the 
result  has  been,  that  we  go  to  the  word  of  God  to 
be  refreshed  and  strengthened,  and  not  to  perform 
a  duty,  or  to  fill  out  a  plan.  We  eat  because  we 
are  hungry,  and  so  long  as  we  are  hungry ;  and 
therefore  our  enjoyment  is  always  keen.  He  who 
takes  all  his  food  by  weight  and  measure,  and  is 
always  thinking  of  the  right  number  of  ounces,  or 
the  proper  proportion  of  a  quart,  is  apt  to  be  a 
weak  valetudinarian,  and  the  attention  which  he 
gives  to  such  little  things  is  sure  to  narrow  his 
mind  and  heart,  so  that  he  is  inevitably  a  small 
man.  Now  it  is  quite  similar  in  this  matter  of 
Bible-reading  in  the  closet ;  and  the  only  rule 
which  one  ought  to  lay  down  for  himself  is  to  read 
until  his  soul  is  satisfied.  Occasionally,  he  will 
come  upon  a  verse  which  will  seem  to  him  to  be 


The  Bible  in  the  Closet.  31 

like  a  branch  heavily  laden  with  ripe  fruit,  and 
shaking  that  into  his  lap,  he  will  find  he  has  enough 
for  all  the  day.  While,  again,  he  may  read  a  whole 
book  at  a  sitting  and  feel  that  he  has  not  had  too 
much.  One  day  a  parable  may  be  enough ;  another, 
he  will  seek  to  have  a  psalm ;  now  he  will  be  con- 
tent with  one  beatitude,  and  again,  he  will  read  at 
once  the  entire  sermon  on  the  mount,  and  see  in  it, 
as  a  connected  whole,  a  unity  and  completeness 
which  he  has  missed  while  perusing  it  in  disjointed 
chapters. 

But  while  thus  insisting  that  every  one  should 
exercise  his  liberty  in  the  matter  of  closet  study  of 
the  Scriptures,  there  are  one  or  two  hints  which  we 
would  give,  by  way  of  intensifying  the  interest 
which  such  an  occupation  ought  to  produce. 

As  far  as  possible,  each  book  should  be  read  as 
a  whole.  The  chapters  into  which  they  are  divided 
are  in  many  cases  as  artificial  as  the  scheme  to 
which  we  have  just  referred.  Think  of  a  son  in 
Europe  dividing  a  letter  from  his  father  in  this 
country  into  so  many  sections,  and  taking  one 
of  these  every  morning  for  his  refreshment,  yet 
never  reading  the  whole  epistle  at  once !  But  it  is 
in  this  absurd  fashion  that  many  of  us  are  content 
to  treat  the  letters  of  Paul  and  his  brother  apostles. 
To  go  through  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  carefully 
at  one  sitting,  is  better  for  giving  us  a  thorough 
comprehension  of  its  meaning  and  design  than 
many  a  commentary ;  while  with  such  a  book  as 


32  Worth  Keeping. 

that  of  Job,  it  will  be  quite  impossible  to  attain  to 
any  clear  understanding  of  its  purpose  and  argu- 
ment if  we  take  twenty-one  days  for  its  perusal  at 
the  orthodox  rate  of  two  chapters  a  day.  For  our- 
selves, we  are  free  to  confess  that  we  never  made 
much  of  that  magnificent  poem,  until  we  read  it, 
as  one  reads  a  book  of  Milton,  or  an  idyll  of  Ten- 
nyson ;  and,  even  after  that,  our  ideas  of  its  mean- 
ing were  marvelously  brightened  when,  while 
teaching  in  a  Scottish  country  school,  we  picked 
out  boys  enough  to  make  up  the  number  of  the 
dramatis  persona,  and  went  over  it  with  them, 
making  each  adhere  to  the  pieces  spoken  by  the 
character  which  he  represented.  It  is  hardly  a 
closet  exercise,  but  we  can  conceive  of  nothing 
more  calculated  to  interest  a  family  group  in  the 
patriarch  of  Uz,  than  such  a  method  of  dealing 
with  the  book  that  goes  by  his  name. 

We  add  only  one  other  hint :  that  we  should 
endeavor  to  get  a  clear  idea  of  the  circumstances 
out  of  which  the  writing  before  us  grew,  and  to 
which  it  was  directed.  Every  scholar  knows  that 
the  books  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  are  not 
arranged  in  chronological  order,  and  can  tell  how 
much  new  interest  was  added  to  his  consideration 
of  that  under  his  hands  when  he  discovered  its 
date  and  primary  application.  It  would  be  well, 
therefore,  if  in  the  closets  of  our  intelligent  church- 
members  such  books  as  Angus's  Bible  Handbook 
were  to  be  found,  so  that  they  could  study  each 


The  Bible  in  the  Closet.  33 

gospel,  epistle,  prophecy  and  psalm  in  the  light  of 
the  occasion  to  which  it  belonged ;  while  volumes 
like  Paley's  Horas  Paulinae  or  Blunt's  Scriptural 
Coincidences,  or  Plumtre's  Biblical  Studies,  will 
help  them  to  discover  what  mines  of  wealth  there 
are  in  the  by-ways  of  the  sacred  books,  of  which 
the  mere  surface  reader  takes  no  note.  Moreover, 
the  perusal  of  such  works  along  with  the  Bible  will 
suggest  to  us  new  applications  of  the  principles  on 
which  their  authors  proceeded,  and  will  make  our 
closet  hours  as  deeply  interesting  to  us  as  their 
hours  with  the  microscope  and  the  telescope  are  to 
the  entomologist  and  the  astronomer. 
3 


34  Worth  Keeping. 


A  CONSPICUOUS  CONVERSION. 


JN  the  autumn  of  1872, 1  met  the  subject  of 
this  sketch  by  introduction  on  a  street 
corner.  I  had  already  heard  something  of 
his  professional  eminence  in  the  law ;  and  of  his 
great  natural  gifts.  The  picture  of  the  man,  as 
memory  now  recalls  him,  upon  that  morning  of 
first  introduction,  is  in  this  perspective. 

He  stood  straight  as  an  arrow.  His  eye  keen, 
but  kindly;  a  lawyer's  eye,  trained  to  take  in  a 
twinkle  all  the  telling  points  of  another's  person- 
ality. Locks,  once  black,  were  enough  flecked 
with  gray  to  give  evidence  that  he  was  over  fifty 
years  up  the  hill. 

Gradually  I  learned  more  of  this  man,  whom  the 
whole  city  and  State  knew  better  than  we  often 
know  our  next-door  neighbors.  In  one  line  of 
legal  practice  he  had  no  competitor.  And  in  all 
departments  of  jurisprudence  his  stores  of  learn- 
ing and  ready  use  of  authorities  are  subjects  of 
constant  remark  among  gentlemen  of  the  bar.  His 
eloquence  is  captivating.  His  cogency  convincing. 
He  can  harangue  a  mixed  crowd  upon  a  political 


A  Conspicuous  Conversion.  35 

issue  until  they  are  hoarse  with  huzzas ;  and  then 
turn  into  the  supreme  court  and  indulge  the  bench 
with  authorities  quoted  from  memory  as  much  as 
from  memoranda.  He  is  a  man  of  iron  nerve  5 
and  has  stood  as  undaunted  in  the  thick  of  battle 
as  if  bullets  were  baby's  playthings.  His  inner- 
most pulse  beats  against  all  oppressors  of  the  poor 
and  lowly.  He  was  an  abolitionist  when  it  needed 
almost  reckless  courage  to  declare  it.  He  despises 
hypocrisy  as  few  others  do  whom  we  have  met. 
His  nature  is  of  that  composition  which  makes  a 
conquest  of  his  heart  and  purse  the  easiest  possi- 
ble to  the  impostor. 

It  is  a  very  blundering  beggar  who  fails  to  make 
my  friend's  fountains  of  sympathy  flow.  He 
is  indeed  a  rare  and  noble  man  —  now  that  the 
gravest  faults  and  deadliest  evils  have  been  re- 
moved by  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  For  it 
must  be  added,  that,  with  all  his  natural  gifts, 
and  endowments,  and  all  his  achievements  in 
learning  and  influence,  he  had  come  to  contemn 
the  cross  and  all  the  truth  it  teaches.  He  despised 
religion  and  its  professors  with  a  bitter  and  deri- 
sive despite.  Court  practice  had  increased  his 
contempt  for  Christians  by  every  additional  flaw 
that  he  had  found  in  their  testimony.  He  turned 
his  back  upon  the  church — except  upon  a  sort  of 
nondescript  concern  called  a  church,  and  charac- 
terized chiefly  by  the  conspicuous  absence  of  any- 
thing honorable  to  Christ. 


36  Worth  Keeping. 

Two  years  ago,  subsequent  to  my  first  introduc- 
tion, and  to  our  utmost  surprise,  this  distinguished 
lawyer  and  determined  enemy  of  the  Master, 
crossed  the  threshold  of  our  church.  Following 
his  figure  and  fixing  my  eye  on  the  man  as  he  sat 
down,  I  had  this  impression  of  him.  Stern,  unsym- 
pathetic, seemingly  disgusted  before  the  sermon 
began,  and  growingly  disgusted  as  it  went  on.  I 
thought  an  angel's  ear  might  hear  his  teeth  whet- 
ting across  each  other,  sharpening  to  cut  sermon 
and  preacher  to  pieces  as  soon  as  the  stupid  ser- 
vices should  close.  Meantime,  there  was  to  me 
but  one  man  in  all  the  crowded  church.  In  a  way 
all  new  to  me,  I  was  led  to  let  my  whole  soul  out 
in  desire  for  his  conversion.  Not  a  farthing  cared 
I  for  his  cold  and  critical  attitude.  My  soul  went 
out  for  his  soul.  All  the  remaining  duties  of  the 
day  were  mere  variations  on  the  theme  of  this 
man's  salvation.  I  worked  thinking  of  him ;  I 
slept  dreaming  of  him.  Two  days  of  desire  and 
prayer  ended  in  nothing  more  than  dropping  a  line 
into  the  mail,  recognizing  his  presence  the  past 
Sabbath,  and  expressing  my  pleasure.  He  replied, 
respectfully,  in  a  note  whose  edges  were  as  keen  as 
its  touch  was  icy.  I  replied  in  a  brief  epistle, 
which,  so  far  as  was  in  me,  I  perfumed  with  love 
and  wrapped  in  velvet.  He  responded  in  what 
seemed  to  me  like  pussy's  foot,  soft  on  the  outside, 
claws  underneath !  "  He  was  too  busy  to  be  dis. 
turbed."  It  ought  not  to  disturb  the  busiest  man 


A  Conspicuous  Conversion.  37 

to  have  a  bouquet  laid  on  his  table.  So  I  resolved 
to  gather  bouquet  truths  and  tie  them  round  with 
some  texts  on  the  atonement,  and  send  them.  Now 
my  friend  was  aroused.  He  wanted  to  argue.  He 
would  show  the  joints  of  our  doctrine  and  the 
deceptions  of  our  professors.  Gently  but  firmly  I 
declined;  confessed  that  he  could  defeat  me  in 
doctrinal  difficulties ;  allowed  the  church  to  be 
below  the  best  standards.  But  two  things  I  would 
not  do ;  argue,  nor  see  him.  "  But,"  said  my  next 
note  to  him,  "  you  will  now  and  hereafter  be  the 
subject  of  my  earnest  prayer,  at  a  certain  specified 
hour  of  each  day,  until  you  repent  or  perish,  or  I 
pass  away." 

What  unwritten  events  followed  for  a  few  weeks 
are  only  known  in  part  to  me ;  and  these  are  too 
sacred  to  be  given  out.  Suffice  it,  that  the  great 
opposer  grounded  every  weapon ;  gave  up  every 
hope  ;  made  clear  and  comprehensive  confession 
before  God;  and,  accepting  Christ  for  righteous- 
ness and  redemption,  presented  himself  as  a  new 
man.  With  the  converted  Saul's  humility,  he 
made  known  his  previous  state  of  sin,  and  his  mad 
opposition  to  the  truth.  He  had  been  friend,  fellow 
and  correspondent  with  the  eminent  infidels  of  two 
hemispheres.  He  had  "  cast  away  the  entire  Chris- 
tian system."  He  believed  professors  to  be  arrant 
hypocrites.  All  this  he  retracted  ;  took  the  hum- 
blest place.  "Only  let  me  sit  down  on  the  sill 
of  the  door;  it  is  all  I  deserve,"  said  he  at  his 


38  Worth  Keeping. 

admission  into  the  church.  "  Come  to  my  house, 
and  erect  a  family  altar  for  me ;  and  if  God  helps 
I  will  never  permit  it  to  be  without  the  daily  offer- 
ing." It  was  a  joyous  hour  when,  as  the  pastor  of 
that  new-born  family  (husband  and  wife  both  start- 
ing together),  I  set  up  the  altar  for  offering.  And 
most  faithfully  has  my  friend  fed  it  with  daily  fuel. 

And  now  what  have  we  ?  A  man  of  more  than 
middle  life;  of  eminence  in  a  profession  whose 
members  are  not  generally  believers ;  a  man  who 
had  led  the  van  of  those  most  at  variance  with 
God ;  a  man  who  had  at  his  tongue's  end  the  keen- 
est and  completest  arguments  against  Christianity; 
a  man  whose  change  would  cause  him  the  only 
conspicuity  which  a  proud  heart  opposes  ;  this  man 
down  as  flat  as  Saul  on  the  highway,  and  as  meekly 
asking :  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?  " 
Since  that  day,  his  life  has  been  so  modestly,  so 
definitely,  so  decidedly,  so  undeviatingly  loyal,  that 
I  venture  he  would  search  in  vain,  who  would  find 
one  to  deny  the  mighty  change  in  this,  now,  man 
of  God. 

"  Ah,  he  was  suffering  some  misfortune,  and  so 
was  easily  affected."  Far  from  it ;  he  was  on  the 
top  of  the  flood-wave.  "  Perhaps  his  mental  powers 
are  failing."  Is  he  failing  who  can  contend  in 
courts  from  morning  till  night ;  then,  eating  a  light 
supper,  sit  down  to  his  table  and  work  until  the 
breakfast  bell ;  rise  to  eat,  and  off  to  court  until 
evening,  and  sit  down  to  yet  a  second  night  of 


A  Conspicuous  Conversion.  39 

work  which  does  not  have  a  doze  in  it  until  day- 
light ?  Two  days  and  two  nights  of  steady  work ! 
Only  Frederic  the  Great,  of  those  of  whom  I  have 
read,  ever  had  such  endurance. 

Space  is  too  short  for  detailed  proof.  But  this 
statement  we  boldly  make.  There  is  not  another 
who  more  bitterly  disbelieved,  and  with  better  abil- 
ity to  give  the  strongest  answer  for  his  infidelity. 
And  to-day  there  is  not  one  of  whom  we  have 
knowledge  who  is  more  meekly  and  lovingly  sitting 
at  Jesus'  feet,  "clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind." 
And  if  any  assuming  and  shallow  scholar  attempts 
to  show  that  education  raises  men  out  of  the 
reach  of  that  repentance  and  regeneration  which 
humbles  the  head  and  radically  changes  the  heart, 
I  shall  tell  him  the  story  of  this  most  conspicuous 
of  the  many  conspicuous  cases  which  it  has  been 
God's  good  will  to  give  me  in  my  ministry  and  pas- 
toral care. 


4O  Worth  Keeping. 


CONCERNING  CLUB-HOUSES. 


ANY  people  are  prejudiced  against  clubs 
and  club-houses.  The  name  is  enough  to 
condemn  either.  Is  this  reasonable  ?  Not 
entirely  so.  Every  case  must  be  judged  on  its 
own  merits.  Certainly,  an  association  of  a  limited 
number  of  persons,  who  unite  their  moneys  to  pro- 
vide a  suitable  place  for  personal  enjoyment,  often 
with  libraries  and  other  facilities  for  improvement, 
is  not  necessarily  evil.  Nor  is  it  any  injustice  to 
the  public,  that  the  club  restricts  its  privileges  to 
members  of  its  own  body,  except  by  inviting  at  its 
own  pleasure,  persons  not  members. 

I  suppose,  however,  that  the  apparent  exclusive- 
ness  is  a  source  of  prejudice.  Why  should  it  be? 
Only  a  moderate  number  can  be  accommodated  in 
any  one  club-house.  Moreover,  the  members  have 
themselves  paid  the  cost  of  it.  Others  can  insti- 
tute a  new  club,  and  build  a  new  club-house. 

I  have,  however,  lately  had  experience  as  to  the 
exclusiveness  of  a  club,  which  made  it  quite 
troublesome. 

In  the  town  where  my  family  has  been  tempora- 


Concerning  Club-Houses.  41 

rily  placed,  there  is  a  club  whose  superior  privi- 
leges I  wish  to  enjoy.  I  can  enjoy  them  by  invita- 
tions from  time  to  time,  but  I  greatly  prefer  to  do 
it  as  a  right,  and  to  meet  my  share  of  the  expenses. 
One  does  not  like  to  be  beholden,  even  to  friends, 
all  the  time. 

This  club,  unlike  many,  admits  favored  women 
and  children  to  its  advantages ;  and  my  desire  to 
get  admission  has  been  mainly  for  my  family's 
sake.  For  a  whole  year  have  I  tried  in  vain. 

This  particular  club  was  formed  some  years  ago. 
It  erected  a  brick  building  capacious  and  hand- 
some. It  has  literary  and  other  exercises  of  a 
very  superior  order,  and  often  has  music.  In  fact, 
it  is  high-toned  and  first  class.  Its  personal  rights 
of  property  are  somewhat  peculiar.  Instead  of 
owning  all  in  common,  it  had  the  builder  draw 
lines  on  the  entire  broad  lower  floor ;  erect  private 
boxes  according  to  these  lines,  and  put  doors  to 
the  boxes,  and  fastenings  on  the  doors.  And  each 
member  of  the  club  is  an  owner  of  a  private  box 
in  fee,  which  also  descends  to  his  heirs.  When 
the  club-house  is  to  be  occupied,  into  his  own  box 
goes  the  owner,  with  his  family  and  any  other  he 
chooses  to  invite;  and  he  shuts  the  door  and 
fastens  it. 

In  this  particular  club  the  owner,  as  such,  pays 
no  part  of  the  expenses  attending  the  occupancy 
of  the  club-house,  except  for  keeping  the  shingles 
tight,  mending  any  broken  glass,  and  for  an 


42  Worth  Keeping. 

occasional  coat  of  paint.  Nothing  can  be  required 
of  him  even  for  coal  or  the  pay  of  the  janitor ;  and  of 
course  nothing  for  the  cost  of  any  music,  speakers, 
and  the  like.  All  such  expenses  are  met  by  con- 
tributions of  the  generous.  A  member  of  the 
club,  that  is,  a  proprietor;  that  is,  a  box-holder, 
may  enjoy  all  the  advantages  of  the  club-house  for 
all  his  life,  and  never  pay  one  cent  for  its  superior 
privileges.  He  can,  if  he  chooses,  lease  his  box, 
and  pocket  the  rent. 

But  a  great  difficulty  here  is,  that  some  box- 
owners  who  rarely  occupy  any  portion,  will  not 
lease  any  part  to  those  who  would  occupy.  Hence 
there  are  some  empty  boxes,  while  other  persons 
(for  instance,  myself  and  family)  earnestly  desire 
the  privileges. 

Nor  have  I,  nor  has  anybody  else,  on  the  theory 
and  practice  of  this  club-house,  any  right  to  com- 
plain. The  owners  paid  their  money  honestly; 
their  boxes  are  their  own  private  property,  and  it 
is  nobody's  business.  If  any  people  do  not  like  it, 
they  can  build  another  club-house.  Only,  that  is 
beyond  my  power,  or  my  desire. 

Of  course  everybody  knows  that  this  particular 
club-house  is  a  meeting-house.  I  have  sometimes 
heard  it  called  a  House  of  God. 

I  want  to  know  what  to  do.  For  more  than  a 
year  have  I  tried  to  get  reasonable  accommodation 
for  my  family.  I  have  tried  to  hire  sittings  enough. 
Our  number  is  not  very  large ;  yet  have  they  been 


Concerning  Club-PIouses.  43 

divided  around  into  three  parts  of  the  house,  and 
some  of  them,  even  then,  dependent  on  the  cour- 
tesy of  friends.  Two  of  them  had  regular  sittings 
awhile  in  a  spot  where  every  opening  of  the  door 
sent  a  deluge  of  cold  air  on  their  necks ;  and  only 
two  sittings  at  that.  Courtesy  continually  says  to 
me :  "  Bring  them  into  my  pew  any  time."  Yes, 
but,  first,  I  want  my  children  to  sit  together,  and 
two  parents,  if  both  are  there,  cannot  sit  in  three 
places  ;  secondly,  I  want  to  pay  for  the  sittings. 

I  take  this  as  a  sample  case.  What  are  the  diffi- 
culties ?  Is  the  church  crowded  ?  No.  There  is 
a  good  congregation,  but  it  would  be  greatly  in- 
creased if  sittings  could  be  furnished.  Is  the 
house  small  ?  No.  Six  tiers  of  pews  of  liberal 
dimensions.  This  club-house  system  is  here  a 
weight  around  the  neck  of  a  remarkably  able  and 
successful  minister.  The  trouble  is,  pews  have 
been  inherited.  Owners  will  not  part  with  them. 
Many  owners  decline  to  rent  any  sittings  to  any- 
body, even  if  they  have  one  or  five  at  liberty. 
Persons  have  told  me  how  long  and  patiently  they 
waited,  before  they  could  get  any  accommodations, 
while  there  were  plenty  of  vacant  sittings  every 
Sunday  and  successive  months. 

You  know  there  are  four  systems  as  to  pews, 
(i.)  Where  pews  are  owned  in  fee,  not  subject  to 
any  taxation  for  current  expenses.  (2.)  Where 
pews  are  owned  by  individuals,  but  subject  to  tax- 
ation for  current  expenses,  according  to  a  fixed 


44  Worth  Keeping. 

original  valuation.  (3.)  Where  pews  are  owned  by 
the  society,  and  rented  either  annually  or  continu- 
ously. (4.)  Where  all  sittings  are  absolutely  free. 

There  are  objections,  of  course,  to  each  method. 
But  incomparably  the  worst,  and  in  the  present 
state  of  society,  inexcusable,  is  the  first.  We 
know  how  it  originated,  and  that  then  its  evils 
were  not  experienced.  Now  it  is  a  barbarism.  It 
enables  an  owner  to  enjoy  all  the  advantages  of  the 
church,  and  never  pay  a  cent  therefor,  as  does  the 
fourth  above ;  but,  unlike  the  fourth,  it  enables  him 
to  prevent  the  growth  of  a  congregation.  It 
makes  what  is  called  a  house  of  God  simply  a  club- 
house, whose  owners  have  contrived  to  have  com- 
forts for  themselves  and  families  and  invited 
guests ;  or,  what  a  theater  would  be  if  it  was  all 
private  boxes  owned  by  individuals  without  taxa- 
tion or  rental.  Anything  more  different  can  hardly 
be  imagined  —  this  system  from  one  where  a  build- 
ing is  supposed  to  be  erected,  in  which  one  is  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  all  who  will  listen.  Not  a 
meeting-house ;  a  club-house.  The  club  being, 
not  the  church,  but  the  pew-owners. 

What  can  one  do  ?  Go  elsewhere  ?  But  here  is 
the  form  of  worship  and  the  kind  of  doctrine  my 
family  prefer.  Here  is  a  minister,  whom  I  esteem 
for  his  intellectual  power,  and  love  for  his  great, 
generous  heart.  Here  is  the  house  where  I  was 
led  when  I  was  a  mere  child,  every  inch  of  whose 
walls  is  familiar  to  me.  Here  are  the  men  I  knew 


Only  To-Day.  45 

and  honored  as  I  grew  in  years.  And  in  this 
house,  and  in  the  seat  where  he  had  been  for  forty 
years,  my  dear  and  honored  father,  an  officer  of  its 
church,  sat  only  the  day  before  God  suddenly  called 
him  up  higher.  Can  I  take  my  children  elsewhere, 
while  his  grave  is  under  only  its  first  snow  ? 


ONLY  TO-DAY. 


ONLY  to-day  for  sorrow ! 

If  God  has  bidden  me  weep, 
I'll  think  the  brightest  to-morrow 

Soon  over  the  night  will  creep ; 
And  so  I  will  only  pray 
That  he  give  me  grace  to-day! 

Only  to-day  for  labor !  — 

Each  day  by  itself  alone ; 
With  its  helping  for  my  neighbor, 

And  its  watching  for  my  own ;  — 
And  so  I  do  with  my  might  — 
And  so  I  walk  in  the  light ! 

Only  to-day  for  living ! 

Fresh,  plain  to  understand, 
With  its  loving  and  doing  and  giving 

Brought  close  to  my  heart  and  hand,  • 
Since  to-day,  for  aught  I  know, 
Is  all  I  shall  have  below ! 


46  Worth  Keeping. 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS. 


WAS  keeping  house  for  a  friend  who  was 
suddenly  called  from  home  by  the  illness 
of  a  relative.  One  day  a  caller  was  an- 
nounced, and  descending  to  the  drawing-room,  an 
old  man  rose  to  greet  me  whose  mantle  of  seventy 
years  could  not  conceal  a  presence  of  rare  dignity 
and  grace.  His  genuine  regret  at  my  friend's 
absence  awakened  my  curiosity. 

"  Will  you  leave  a  message  for  her  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  replied ;  "  only  this  card." 

As  he  turned  to  leave  the  room  his  attention 
was  arrested  by  a  portrait  on  the  wall. 

"  Who  is  this  ? "  he  eagerly  asked,  but  immedi- 
ately added,  half  to  himself,  "  I  see,  I  see  —  the 
same  Clover  of  by-gone  days." 

With  graceful  courtesy  he  begged  my  pardon  for 
the  momentary  abstraction,  and  said :  "  Will  you 
please  tell  Mrs.  Brayton  that  I  hope  to  see  her  in 
the  other  house  —  the  one  not  made  with  hands?" 

This  was  not  the  language  of  conventional 
callers,  and  long  after  his  departure  I  pondered 
over  his  half-mysterious,  but  strangely  attractive 
bearing.  I  had  been  intimately  acquainted  witl 


After  Many  Days.  47 

my  friend  from  early  girlhood,  and  it  seemed  im- 
possible for  her  to  have  met  this  man  and  made 
such  an  evident  impression,  and  I  be  ignorant  of 
the  circumstances.  I  concluded  that  I  had  enter- 
tained a  very  agreeable  lunatic. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Brayton  came  home,  and  I 
gave  her  the  stranger's  card.  On  one  side  was  the 
name  and  address : 

ROBERT   RALSTON, 

STUTTGART,  GERMANY. 

beneath  which  was  written  in  pencil :  "  I  came 
here  to  answer  yes  to  the  questions  of  thirty  years 
ago." 

"  O  how  sorry  I  am  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is 
like  one  risen  from  the  dead.  What  did  he  say  ? " 

I  repeated  the  verbal  message,  told  her  of  his 
rapt  look  before  the  portrait,  and  then  claimed  an 
explanation  of  such  strange  proceedings.  My 
curiosity  was  rewarded  with  the  following  story : 

"Years  ago,"  said  my  friend,  "when  a  mere 
child  of  seven,  I  was  sent  away  from  home  to 
escape  a  contagious  disease  which  had  broken  out 
among  the  children  in  our  town.  I  was  shut  up 
in  a  lonely  house  with  a  maiden  lady,  a  friend  of 
mother's,  and  I  well  remember  the  terrible  home- 
sickness of  the  first  few  days.  Separated  from  a 
large  circle  of  brothers  and  sisters,  and  from  the 
free,  loving  ways  of  our  household,  the  gloom  and 


48  Worth  Keeping. 

grandeur  of  this  other  place  nearly  crushed  me. 
Only  a  lack  of  courage  kept  me  from  running 
away.  One  day  this  lady's  brother  came  home. 
He  was  a  bronzed,  bearded  man  of  forty,  who  had 
spent  years  in  traveling,  and  he  delighted  my  hun- 
gry heart  with  wonderful  stories  of  what  he  had 
seen  in  other  lands.  Day  after  day  he  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  task  of  amusing  me.  Never  did 
lady  have  a  more  devoted  knight.  It  was  the  win- 
ter season,  and  every  pleasant  day  he  coasted  down 
hill  with  me,  or  took  me  out  for  brisk  walks  in  the 
quiet  town,  teaching  me  to  observe  and  enjoy  a 
thousand  things  which  my  childish  eyes  would  not 
have  seen  but  for  his  kindly  instructions.  He 
taught  me  to  sing,  and  led  me  into  the  most 
enchanting  realms  in  the  world  of  books,  training 
my  mind,  even  then,  to  discriminate  between  the 
true  and  false.  We  played  checkers  a  great  deal, 
and  so  delicate  was  the  tact  which  allowed  me  to 
beat  that  I  never  dreamed  it  was  not  the  result  of 
my  own  skill. 

"  I  had  a  little  trick  of  humming  to  myself  as  ^1 
poised  my  ringer  over  the  men,  deliberating  a  move. 
One  day  he  exclaimed  with  an  air  of  having  made 
a  rare  discovery :  '  Why,  it  must  be  the  humming 
which  makes  you  so  successful !  I  think  I'll  try  it.' 
Then  he,  too,  would  hum  so  musically  that  I  would 
wait  the  game  to  listen,  but  it  seemed  to  avail  him 
nothing.  Then  he  would  declare  that  there  must 
be  some  witchery  in  my  tones. 


After  Many  Days.  49 

" '  Why  do  you  call  me  Clover  ? '  I  once  asked 
him.  '  My  name  is  Alice.' 

" '  Because  clover  blossoms  are  bright  and  bon- 
nie,  and  so  are  you,'  was  the  reply. 

"  I  cannot  understand,  even  now,  how  this  cul- 
tured man  of  the  world  was  content  to  give  him- 
self up  so  fully  to  the  task  of  pleasing  a  little 
child.  I  was  sorry  when  the  summons  came  to 
return  home,  and  the  night  before  my  departure  I 
was  permitted  to  sit  up  beyond  the  usual  time.  I 
can  recall  just  how  the  room  looked.  The  candles 
were  not  lighted,  and  the  glow  from  the  blazing 
logs  on  the  hearth  made  fantastic  shadows  on  the 
wall.  The  furniture  was  of  massive  oak,  curiously 
carved,  and  in  that  weird  light  each  article  seemed 
to  take  the  form  of  a  horrible  monster,  that  ,made 
me  nestle  in  the  strong  arms  of  my  friend  with  a 
delightful  sense  of  safety.  Although  I  could  not 
understand  much  of  the  conversation,  I  felt  that 
he  and  his  sister  were  talking  wisely  and  well  of 
men  and  affairs.  Finally  they  drifted  on  to  the 
subject  of  religion,  and  something  in  the  man's 
cold  belief  —  or  unbelief  —  chilled  my  young  heart. 
The  life  of  Jesus  Christ  was  analyzed  in  the  same 
critical  way  as  that  of  Lord  Burleigh  and  Napoleon 
Bonaparte. 

"  Suddenly  I  lifted  my  head  from  his  shoulder 
and  asked,  with  astonishment,  'Don't  you  love 
Jesus,  Mr.  Ralston  ? '  The  only  reply  was  a  hand 
gently  forcing  my  head  back  to  its  resting-place, 

4 


50  Worth  Keeping: 

and  the  conversation  continued  with  his  sister.  I 
could  endure  it  no  longer  and  again  lifted  my  head 
to  inquire,  with  childish  persistence,  '  Well,  don't 
you  believe  Jesus  loves  you  ? '  This  time  not  only 
was  a  hand  laid  tenderly  upon  my  curls,  but  some- 
thing like  a  tear  dropped  on  my  upturned  face,  as 
he  said  softly,  '  I  believe  in  you,  Clover,  with  all  my 
heart.'  The  next  morning  he  kissed  me  good-bye 
as  he  put  me  in  the  old  stage-coach,  and  from  that 
day  to  this  I  have  never  heard  of  him." 

The  bit  of  pasteboard  in  my  friend's  ringers 
grew -luminous  with  a  life's  imagined  history. 
Time  had  brought  her  the  ordinary  experiences  of 
girl,  and  wife,  and  motherhood,  but  who  could 
guess  where  and  how  his  days  had  been  spent  ? 
In  what  lands  had  he  wandered,  seeking  but  find- 
ing no  rest  for  the  uneasy  soul,  until  he  found  it  in 
Him  who  is  the  Peace  of  a  weary  world. 

"A  little  child  shall  lead  them,"  even  after  many 
days. 


A   Talk   With  Ministers.  51 


A  TALK  WITH  MINISTERS. 


JHERE  are  only  seven  days,  of  twenty-four 
hours  each,  in  every  week ;  during  which  a 
working  pastor  must  prepare  two  sermons, 
conduct  from  one  to  three  prayer-meetings,  make 
such  pastoral  calls  and  discharge  such  duties  as  the 
requirements  of  the  parish  may  demand.  To  say 
nothing  of  needless  invasions  on  his  time  by  people 
who  have  no  claim  on  him,  and  the  hours  con- 
sumed by  attention  to  correspondence  more  or  less 
extended,  how  can  the  average  pastor  find  time  for 
such  courses  of  study  as  to  fit  him  for  growing  use- 
fulness ?  That  the  problem  is  not  insoluble  is  plain 
from  the  fact  that  scores  and  hundreds  of  men 
have  been  able,  for  many  successive  years,  to  meet 
the  demands  of  their  parishes  to  growing  accept- 
ance, with  energy  sufficient  to  write  for  the  papers, 
contribute  to  the  magazines  and  quarterlies,  and 
join  the  fraternity  of  authors.  And  inquiry  proves 
that  all  this  has  been  done,  not  by  the  aid  of 
miracle,  but  by  a  wise  husbanding  of  time  and 
force,  and  by  downright  hard  work. 

It  may  be  said,  in   a  general  way,  that  in  such 
matters  every  man  must  be   a  law   unto   himself. 


52  Worth  Keeping. 

Men  differ  widely  in  their  native  capacity  for 
intense  and  continuous  work,  in  their  powers  of 
endurance,  in  rapidity  of  mental  activity,  in  retent- 
iveness  of  memory,  in  literary  tastes,  in  their  dis- 
position to  confine  themselves  to  definite  methods. 
Samuel  Hopkins  speaks  of  studying  fourteen 
hours  each  day.  Calvin  found  time  to  preach  every 
day,  lecture  three  times  a  week,  conduct  a  vast 
correspondence,  and  prepare  for  the  press  his  volu- 
minous commentaries.  Such  examples  are  profita- 
ble for  inspiration,  but  hardly  for  imitation.  The 
average  working  pastor  will  be  fortunate  if  he  can 
succeed  in  following  the  illustrious  Thomas  Chal- 
mers, and  devote,  on  an  average,  five  hours  each 
day  to  his  studies.  In  the  most  active  years  of  his 
ministry  he  may  not  be  able  to  command  even  such 
an  amount  of  time  for  uninterrupted  and  close 
study.  But  there  must  be  something  seriously  at 
fault,  if  he  fail,  during  the  first  ten  years  of  his 
professional  life,  to  spend  at  least  five  hours  a  day 
in  his  library.  During  these  years  he  has  most 
leisure.  The  calls  for  outside  labor  are  compara- 
tively few.  And  if  these  years  have  been  diligently 
improved,  the  capacity  for  work  will  have  doubled 
and  trebled,  so  that  one  hour  may  be  made  to  do 
the  work  of  three.  Dr.  Alexander  is  right  in  say- 
ing that  the  first  ten  years  of  any  minister's  work 
are  the  period  in  which  he  makes  his  greatest 
attainments.  These  are  years  of  foundation  build- 
ing. They  determine  his  practical  aims,  his  literary 


A   Talk    With  Ministers.  53 

or  theological  tastes,  his  methods.  And  where 
these  ten  golden  years  have  bee.n  allowed  to  run  to 
waste,  or  have  been  indifferently  improved,  it  may 
be  seriously  doubted  whether  the  loss  can  ever  be 
made  good. 

There  must  be  also,  from  the  very  beginning,  a 
very  definite  purpose  of  solid  improvement,  a  deter- 
mination conscientiously  made  and  firmly  adhered 
to,  not  to  sacrifice  the  student  to  the  preacher. 
Every  pastor  very  soon  is  confronted  by  the  ques- 
tion :  "  How  much  time  ought  I  to  give  to  pulpit 
preparation,  and  how  much  to  general  study  ? " 
These  two  lines  of  work  cannot  be  separated ;  they 
are  like  the  right  and  left  lobes  of  the  lungs  ;  an 
injury  to  one  is  hurtful  to  the  other.  He  who 
neglects  general  study  will  soon  exhaust  his 
material,  and  fail  in  the  power  of  public  religious 
teaching.  It  would  seem  to  be  fair  to  divide  the 
six  days  of  the  week  equally  between  these  two 
great  classes  of  work.  One  half  of  each  working 
day  might  be  given  to  the  sermon,  and  the  other 
half  to  study  ;  or  the  first  three  days  might  be 
devoted  to  study,  and  the  work  of  pulpit  prepara- 
tion might  be  begun  on  Thursday.  In  some 
respects,  the  latter  plan  has  its  peculiar  advantages. 
It  supplies  time  for  creating  mental  momentum,  a 
quality  invaluable  for  broad  and  effective  work. 
Nor  will  the  sermon  necessarily  suffer.  He  who 
cultivates  what  has  been  called  the  "  homiletical 
mood"  will  frequently  find  the  richest  and  most 


54  Worth  Keeping. 

practical  themes  in  the  course  of  his  most  general 
studies.  Besides,  where  the  afternoons  are  devoted, 
as  they  always  should  be,  to  parish  work,  the  mind 
will  often  so  combine  the  studies  of  the  morning 
with  the  living  wants  of  men,  as  to  provoke  the 
most  profitable  trains  of  reflection.  It  may  be 
said  that  he  finds  the  most  numerous  and  the  fresh- 
est themes  for  the  pulpit,  who  most  eagerly  and 
gladly  loses  hinlself  in  surveying  the  broad  fields 
of  divine  truth.  It  will  be  found,  too,  that  where 
such  a  policy  is  early  adopted,  the  time  for  general 
study  may  be  gradually  extended,  without  detriment, 
to  careful  preparation  for  the  services  of  preaching. 
As  material  accumulates,  as  the  knowledge  of  the 
Bible,  and  of  doctrinal  history,  becomes  more 
accurate  and  extended,  as  the  mental  powers 
become  more  vigorous,  and  practical  sympathy 
with  men  gathers  fiber  and  force,  an  hour  or  two 
may  suffice  for  what  once  required  an  entire  morn- 
ing; and  so,  as  duties  and  calls  multiply,  the 
acquired  ease  may  still  leave  a  generous  margin  for 
general  study. 

Equally  important  is  it  that  the  lines  of  study  be 
carefully  chosen,  and  firmly  adhered  to.  A  minis- 
ter ought  to  be  a  man  of  liberal  culture.  But  he 
is  not  summoned  to  be  an  expert  in  every  depart- 
ment of  human  knowledge.  In  science,  in  polite 
literature,  in  political  economy,  in  philosophy,  even, 
he  need  not  blush  to  confess  his  inferiority  to  many 
a  man  in  the  press ;  but  in  Christian  theology  and 


A   Talk   With  Ministers.  55 

ethics  he  ought  to  be  a  leader  of  his  people,  in 
reality  as  well  as  in  name.  As  a  preacher  of  right- 
eousness he  ought  to  understand  his  subject,  both 
in  its  ideal  and  practical  aspects.  So  that  it  would 
seem  only  reasonable  that  a  working  pastor's  time 
for  study  should  be  mainly  given  to  such  depart- 
ments as  are  immediately  related  to  ethics  and 
theology.  If  his  means  are  limited,  he  should  all 
the  more  jealously  economize  his  dimes  and  dollars, 
that  he  may  possess  himself  as  rapidly  as  possible 
of  such  books  as  represent  the  very  best  Chris- 
tian thinking  in  interpretation,  systematic  theology, 
church  history  and  the  history  of  doctrines.  . 

Only  too  many  libraries  of  ministers  give  evi- 
dence that  they  have  been  collected  without  any 
definite  plan ;  and  many  a  man  who  displays  a 
couple  of  hundred  of  indifferently  good  books, 
with  the  complaint  that  he  cannot  afford  the  luxury 
of  a  working  library,  might  have  possessed  himself, 
without  a  dollar's  additional  expense,  of  a  small, 
but  permanently  valuable,  collection  of  first-class 
books.  It  requires  some  courage  not  to  buy  a  new 
book,  fresh  from  the  press,  and  loudly  heralded; 
but  it  is  generally  safe  for  a  working  pastor  to  wait 
until  criticism  has  been  passed  on  the  venture  by 
some  competent  authority.  Many  a  dollar  may  be 
saved  by  having  the  study-table  regularly  visited  by 
some  standard  Review,  whose  book  notices  are 
scholarly  and  reliable.  In  the  meantime  it  is  best 
to  master  that  which  is  positive  and  reasonably 


56  Worth  Keeping. 

well  established.  It  is  infinitely  better  to  be  master 
of  the  history  of  truth,  than  to  be  familiar  with  all 
the  shades  of  error.  Some  ministers  study  here- 
sies too  much,  and  truth  too  little  ;  and  the  conse- 
quence is  not  only  injurious  to  their  hearers,  but 
also  to  themselves.  The  firmness  of  their  intellec- 
tual fiber  gradually  relaxes,  until  positiveness  of 
personal  conviction  almost  disappears. 

There  should  also  be  mental  vigilance,  as  related 
to  such  subjects  as  from  time  to  time  are  thrust 
into  public  prominence.  Not  long  since  the  nature 
and  duration  of  future  punishment  excited  partic- 
ular attention.  More  recently  the  Prophetic  Con- 
ference gave  a  temporary  publicity  to  pre-millenial 
views.  A  wide-awake  pastor  will  be  likely,  for  a 
time,  to  abandon  his  particular  line  of  study,  and 
enter  upon  a  more  thorough  exegetical,  historical, 
and  theological  mastery  of  the  questions  in  debate. 
It  argues  ill  for  a  minister,  if  at  such  times  he  can 
be  satisfied  with  what  he  reads  in  newspapers  and 
pamphlets  and  magazines ;  especially  if  the  ques- 
tion in  hand  has  never  been  thoroughly  considered 
by  him.  And  even  where  the  ground  has  been 
traversed  there  will  be  great  profit  in  passing  over 
it  again,  under  the  stimulus  of  a  wide-spread  popu- 
lar interest. 

After  all,  every  man  must  hew  his  own  way 
through  the  forest.  He  cannot  walk  in  another's 
track.  He  must  plunge  boldly  into  the  mazes 
before  him,  undiscouraged  by  early  failures  and 


A   Talk   With  Ministers.  57 

repeated  crossings  of  his  path,  determined  to  force 
his  way  through  to  where  compass  and  chart  direct 
him.  Many,  if  not  most  men,  have  never  found 
time  to  think  out  a  definite  method ;  and  where 
such  a  method  has  been  adopted,  it  has  been  of 
short  duration.  They  simply  do  the  work ;  they 
have  had  a  general  and  fixed  aim,  and  have 
advanced  towards  it,  sometimes  painfully,  slowly 
and  laboriously,  sometimes  easily,  rapidly,  and  with 
great  delight ;  always  under  the  sense  of  imperfec- 
tion and  incompetence.  This  question  of  minis- 
terial work  recurs  to  every  pastor  in  some  form ; 
and  none  ask  it  more  eagerly  and  earnestly  than 
they  who  seem  in  their  lives  to  have  answered  it. 
Let  every  man  do  what  he  can  ;  and  let  Christ  be 
the  Master  under  whose  eye  we  study  and  preach. 


58  Worth  Keeping. 


CASUISTRY  OF  THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


i'HE    mistress   and   the  Irish   cook  are  in 
colloquy. 

"  Indade,  missus,  and  what  for  should  I 
stale  from  ye  ?  I  must  go  and  tell  it  all  to  the 
priest.  I  kneel  down  to  confess  me  sins ;  and  he 
asks  me  so  many  questions ;  there's  nothing  in  me 
that  he  doesn't  find  out.  I  daren't  tell  him  a 
lie.  I  must  tell  him  just  what  I  took  from  ye, 
and  all  about  it :  the  tay,  the  sugar,  the  coffee, 
and  all  unbeknownst  to  ye.  He  asks  me  jist  what 
it  was  all  worth,  and  I  must  tell  him  to  a  penny ; 
for  I  mustn't  tell  a  lie  to  him,  ye  know.  '  Is  that 
all  ? '  he  says,  says  he.  '  Ye  stop  and  think,  and 
tell  me  ivery  thing ; '  and  his  eyes  look  into  me 
very  sowl,  and  I  takes  care  to  put  it  high  enough 
to  be  sure  of  me  sowl.  Then  he  says  to  me, 
says  he :  '  Have  ye  got  the  money  wid  ye  ? ' 
I  says,  '  Yes,  Father  B.'  Ye  know  ye  must 
have  the  money  about  ye  whin  ye  go  to  con- 
fess. And  thin  he  points  up  to  the  poor-box, 
hanging  there  before  me  eyes ;  and  he  says, 
says  he:  'See  that  ye  don't  lave  this  house  till 
ye've  put  ivry  penny  of  that  ye  stole  into  the 


Casuistry  of  the  Confessional.  59 

box  yonder,  foment  the  post.'  And  I  must  do  it, 
missus,  jist  as  he  tells  me,  wid  his  eyes  looking  at 
me  so  ;  or  I  go  home  wid  a  lie  to  the  priest ;  and 
thin  what's  the  good  of  confessing,  and  what 
becomes  of  me  sowl  ?  So  what's  the  good  to  me, 
if  I  stales  your  sugar  ? " 

The  above  was  a  veritable  occurrence  in  the  city 
of  Boston,  not  long  ago.  It  carries  internal  evi- 
dence of  truth,  so  far  as  this  —  that  an  Irish  servant 
would  not  be  likely  to  originate  the  adroit  casuistry 
of  giving  to  the  poor  the  proceeds  of  her  pilfering. 
Some  shrewder  mind  than  hers  started  that  idea. 
But  is  that  the  casuistry  of  the  confessional  ?  A 
certain  old  book  declares  of  the  Almighty :  "  I  hate 
robbery  for  burnt  offering." 


6o  Worth  Keeping. 


A  REMARKABLE  CONVERSION. 


ILL  sudden  conversions  have  in  them  some- 
thing phenomenal,  something  antagonistic 
to  the  usual  habits  of  thought  or  action  of 
the  person  converted.  Yet  upon  minute  examina- 
tion, a  slender  thread,  perhaps  almost  invisible, 
^connects  the  change  of  heart  with  some  faint  im- 
pression made  before.  It  may  have  been  words 
heard  in  childhood,  imperfectly  understood  then, 
and  forgotten  as  soon  as  heard,  a  sermon,  a  prayer, 
an  admonition,  a  chance  text  of  Scripture,  utterly 
disregarded  at  the  time,  but  which  by  some  subtle 
power  springs  into  active  life  and  clamors  at  the 
closed  gates  of  the  soul.  Whatever  we  may  have 
heard  or  seen  through  life,  may  return  to  us  with- 
out calling  it  a  miracle.  Remorse  for  great  sins 
works  its  own  special  conversions  also.  The 
recoil  of  the  human  soul  from  crime  propels  it  in 
the  opposite  direction,  where  forgiveness  for  that 
crime  can  alone  be  sought  and  found.  Strange 
and  unexpected  as  these  conversions  may  be  where 
a  man  is  born  suddenly  into  a  new  life,  as  I  before 
remarked,  a  slender  link  usually  binds  it  to  the 
past. 


A  Remarkable  Conversion.  6 1 

But  the  instance  I  am  about  to  relate  is  utterly 
devoid  of  all  these  explicable  circumstances.  In 
the  parish  of  St.  Landry,  in  Louisiana,  the  Stagg 
family  have  lived  for  several  generations.  They 
are  French  Creoles,  and  Roman  Catholics,  though 
from  the  name  their  ancestors  were  probably  Ger- 
mans, and  perhaps  Protestants.  The  family  are 
noted  in  this  community  for  moral  lives,  and  strict 
integrity  in  all  their  dealings  with  their  neighbors. 

Adolph  Stagg,  about  thirty  years  of  age,  like 
the  rest  of  his  family,  was  very  industrious,  a  godd 
husband,  father,  and  neighbor ;  a  quiet,  deliberate 
man,  perfectly  satisfied  with  himself,  his  work,  his 
manner  of  life,  and  without  a  thought  that  any- 
thing more  was  needed.  He  had  no  more  relig- 
ious convictions  than  the  stones  in  his  path,  and 
felt  no  more  need  of  them.  As  a  boy  he  had  prob- 
ably gone  to  mass  sometimes,  but  like  most  Catho- 
lic Creole  men,  he  seldom  or  never  entered  a 
church.  As  for  Protestantism,  he  knew  nothing 
about  it  but  the  name,  and  had  never  read  a  page 
in  the  Bible  in  his  life. 

Some  years  ago,  he  started  on  horseback  one 
Sunday  for  his  hog  range,  intending  to  kill  some 
for  himself  and  a  neighbor.  Like  the  rest  of  his 
Creole  neighbors,  Sunday  was  his  usual  day  for 
attending  to  his  stock,  and  doing  any  work  outside 
of  the  crop  —  in  fact  it  was  with  him  always  the 
busiest  day  in  the  week.  The  idea  of  anything 
wrong  connected  with  this  desecration  of  the 


62  Worth  Keeping. 

Sabbath  never  entered  his  mind.  He  had  done  it 
from  a  boy;  his  father  before  him,  and  the  com- 
munity in  which  he  lived,  had  made  it  an  habitual 
thing.  He  had  never  read,  heard,  or  seen  any- 
thing to  impugn  its  perfect  propriety.  He  stopped 
for  a  neighbor  to  assist  in  the  hunt,  and  they  rode 
together  to  the  range. 

The  first  singular  and  inexplicable  circumstance 
to  Mr.  Stagg,  in  this  day  of  marvels,  was  that  not 
a  single  hog  could  be  found,  though  he  knew  the 
range  was  full  of  them.  His  dogs  were  well 
trained,  and  the  difficulty  usually  lay  in  selecting 
from  large  droves ;  but  this  day  the  dogs  did  not 
once  follow  the  trail,  and  all  the  stock  had  van- 
ished utterly.  Until  noon  he  hunted,  growing 
more  and  more  perplexed,  when  a  rain  coming  up, 
he  and  his  companion  turned  their  faces  home- 
ward. He  is  a  taciturn  man,  and  with  his  mind 
full  of  the  disappearance  of  his  stock  and  the  pos- 
sible causes  of  it,  he  rode  on  in  silence.  He  says : 
"  Suddenly,  as  if  by  a  lightning's  flash,  all  thoughts 
were  swept  away,  and  a  terrible  pressure,  almost 
physical  in  its  pain,  seemed  to  crush  down  my  very 
soul.  Somehow  I,  who  had  never  thought  of  sin 
before,  realized  that  it  was  weighing  me  down, 
and  that  it  would  destroy  me  if  I  could  find  no 
relief." 

Like  Saul  on  his  journey  to  Damascus,  smitten 
through  and  through,  quivering  in  every  nerve,  his 
soul  cried  out :  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to 


A  Remarkable  Conversion.  63 

do  ? "  for  he  became  conscious  that  the  Lord  was 
dealing  with  him.  He  does  not  know  how  long 
the  struggle  lasted,  probably  not  more  than  an 
hour  or  so,  but  before  Mr.  Stagg  dismounted  at  his 
own  door,  the  work  was  done,  and  the  dark,  igno- 
rant soul,  irradiated  by  divine  light,  understood 
where  and  how  to  seek  salvation.  There  was  no 
thought  of  going  to  a  Catholic  priest  for  help. 
Mr.  Stagg  says  the  flash  which  showed  him  the 
necessity  of  regeneration  also  seemed  to  point  to 
the  Bible  alone  as  his  succor.  He  had  made  only 
one  remark  to  his  companion  during  their  silent 
ride :  "  You've  seen  me  always  hunting  on  Sun- 
day ;  you  will  never  see  it  again." 

Like  a  man  in  a  dream,  he  went  into  his  house 
and  hunted  up  a  Bible,  which  strangely  enough 
happened  to  be  there.  In  Roman  Catholic  house- 
holds the  Bible  is  the  last  book  you  may  expect  to 
find.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  contents  of  the 
volume,  or  what  he  was  to  find  in  it,  nor  where  to 
look  for  the  pages  which  would  bring  him  aid.  He 
only  knew  that  the  Book  would  enlighten  him,  and 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  guidance  which  had  led 
him  into  this  strange  path.  He  called  his  wife, 
and  together  they  read  and  studied;  he  eagerly, 
hungrily,  like  a  starving  man  clutching  for  the 
bread  which  is  to  sustain  life.  In  that  first  read- 
ing he  found  it. 

After  a  few  weeks  of  study  and  prayer,  he  and 
his  wife  connected  themselves  with  the  church. 


64  Worth  Keeping. 

Some  years  afterwards  he  entered  the  ministry, 
and  has  preached  ever  since  with  power  and  suc- 
cess. 

You  will  doubtless  ask  why  this  humble  individ- 
ual, without  special  gifts  of  mind  or  fortune,  should 
have  been  thus  favored  by  this  manifestation  of 
God's  grace.  In  many  cases  God's  purposes 
remain  shrouded  in  mystery,  but  in  this  one  the 
answer  is  clear  enough  for  all  men  to  understand. 
The  French  Creole  race  in  the  country  parishes  of 
Louisiana,  particularly  those  of  Acadian  descent, 
is  a  peculiar  one.  There  is  no  general  culture, 
and  a  kind  of  light-hearted  avoidance  of  all  grave 
topics.  The  women  are  all  superstitious  and  big- 
oted Roman  Catholics.  The  men  have  a  kind  of 
hereditary  belief  that  there  is  only  one  true 
church,  and  that  the  Catholic ;  but  they  are  rarely 
seen  at  its  services,  and  they  only  call  in  its  aid 
three  times  in  their  lives,  to  be  christened,  married, 
and  receive  extreme  unction  On  a  death-bed.  That 
they  consider  sufficient  to  wash  away  all  sins,  and 
ensure  an  easy  place  in  purgatory.  It  is  the  busi- 
ness of  those  they  leave  behind  them  by  prayers 
and  masses  to  relieve  them  from  that  very  unpleas- 
ant region  ;  so  they  do  not  concern  themselves 
much  about  it. 

The  most  eloquent  and  gifted  American  clergy- 
man could  never  reach  these  people.  Both  igno-, 
ranee  and  prejudice  would  arm  them  against  him. 
But  when  one  of  themselves,  brought  up  amongst 


A  Remarkable  Conversion.  65 

them,  and  under  the  same  influences,  living  their 
lives,  thinking  their  thoughts,  speaking  their  lan- 
guage, comes  before  them  with  an  evangel  myste- 
riously learned,  they  listen  and  are  taught.  The 
circumstance,  too,  that  instead  of  being  like  them- 
selves of  a  mercurial,  impulsive  temperament,  this 
new  teacher  has  always  been  grave  and  unexcit- 
able,  gives  his  words  added  force.  His  calm, 
deliberate  judgment  and  punctilious  truthfulness 
had  always  made  him  an  authority  among  his 
people,  and  they  can  never  suspect  him  of  spir- 
itual delusion.  They  see  him,  once  so  calm,  now 
full  of  a  fervid  zeal  for  their  conversion  and  en- 
lightenment, and  they  are  awed  and  impressed. 
He  has  made  many  converts  and  is  now  in  the  full 
tide  of  successful  labor.  He  is  sowing  the  seed 
for  a  great  harvest  he  may  not  live  to  gather ;  but 
there  will  always  be  reapers  in  the  field.  An 
humble,  zealous  Christian,  he  finds  his  joy  in  doing 
the  work  of  the  Master  who  has  called  him  to  it, 
and  leaving  the  fruits  for  other  laborers  in  the 
Lord's  vineyard. 


66  Worth  Keeping. 


WATCH  AND  CARE. 


E  was  a  young  man,  who  had  abandoned 
his  interest  in  religion.  He  had  become 
used  to  neglecting  all  its  observances,  had 
resumed  many  former  habits  of  recklessness,  and 
was  going  rapidly  in  the  wrong  direction,  a  great 
stumbling-block  to  some  who  were  querying  as  to 
the  reality  of  Christianity.  She  was  his  neighbor, 
a  member  of  the  same  church,  a  very  busy  woman, 
with  a  family  to  be  cared  for,  and  not  acquainted 
intimately  with  him.  She  saw  how  he  was  living, 
and  she  was  troubled. 

She  felt  that  her  pledge  to  watch  over  her  fellow 
church-members  in  love,  was  full  of  solemn  mean- 
ing and  included  him.  She  believed,  as  she  had 
reason  to  believe,  in  prayer.  She  began  to  pray 
for  him.  She  was  in  earnest,  too.  It  cut  her  to 
the  heart  that  a  professed  Christian  should  be  dis- 
loyal. She  was  as  truly  distressed  at  the  peril  of 
his  soul  as  though  he  had  been  her  own  son ;  more 
than  she  ever  had  been  at  bodily  danger,  and  she 
had  faced  death  more  than  once.  She  believed, 
also,  that  God  loved  and  longed  for  that  straying 
soul  more  than  she  could.  She  prayed  mightily. 


Watch  and  Care,  67 

She  prayed  often,  at  times  incessantly.     While  she , 
worked    she    was    pleading    with    God    for    the 
wanderer. 

One  day  she  met  him  accidentally.  Tremblingly 
she  mustered  courage  to  ask  him  to  return  to  his 
Saviour,  and  to  tell  him  that  she  was  interceding 
for  him.  He  did  not  repel  her,  nor  did  he  give  the 
least  evidence  of  heeding  her  words.  Weeks 
passed.  She  prayed  on  and  on,  convinced,  as  if  it 
depended  upon  her  earnestness  alone,  that  the 
salvation  of  a  soul  was  at  stake.  And  after  weary 
months  of  patient  pleading  with  God  her  reward 
came.  She  saw  the  young  man  in  his  seat  at 
church.  Then  he  appeared  again  in  the  prayer- 
meeting.  At  last  she  saw  him  at  the  Lord's  table 
once  more,  humble,  penitent,  earnestly  longing,  if 
perchance  so  great  a  sinner  might  be  forgiven,  to 
begin  again  as  one  of  Christ's  own.  He  told  her 
afterwards  that  the  knowledge  of  her  prayers  in 
his  behalf  was  the  influence  which,  under  God,  had 
saved  him. 

In  every  neighborhood  there  are  just  such  erring 
professors  of  religion.  In  every  case  such  prayers 
as  hers  will  be  honored  and  answered  of  God.  Do 
you  know  any  such  needy  soul  ?  Is  there  none 
whom  you  have  covenanted  to  watch  over  as  a 
fellow  disciple  ?  Are  you  praying  thus  for  that 
soul  ?  If  not,  why  not  ? 


68  Worth  Keeping. 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  ESCALADE. 


j|N  the  twelfth  of  December,  no  true  Geneva 
family  fails  to  have  its  turkey  on  the  spit ; 
and  even  those  dispersed  in  the  ends  of  the 
earth  hold  festival,  and  tell  each  other  of  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  brave  days  of  old,  and  especially  of  the 
heroic  story  of  the  Escalade.  This  story,  as  it  has 
been  told  every  year  now  (in  1876)  for  two  hundred 
and  seventy-two  years,  runs  on  this  wise : 

For  nearly  seventy  years  the  little  heretic  city  of 
Geneva  had  sat  within  its  walls  on  its  hill-top  at  the 
outlet  of  Lake  Leman,  in  the  enjoyment  of  its 
liberty  and  its  religion.  Violence,  stratagem, 
treachery,  all  had  been  resorted  to  in  vain  by  its 
old  tyrants,  the  dukes  of  Savoy,  to  recover  the 
foothold  they  once  had  within  it.  All  the  craft  and 
power  of  the  Papacy  had  been  applied  to  break 
down  this  rampart  of  liberty  for  all  Europe,  to 
extinguish  this  radiant  focus  of  light  for  all  the 
world.  It  had  become  the  asylum  of  the  exiled 
martyrs  of  Italy  and  France.  Said  a  Pope  to  the 
Duke  of  Alva,  just  starting  for  his  ferocious  cam- 
paign in  the  Low  Countries :  "  Can't  you  go  a 
hundred  miles  out  of  your  way  and  stamp  out  that 


The  Feast  of  the  Escalade.  69 

nest  of  heretics  at  Geneva  ? "  The  documents  of 
the  time  teem  with  indications  of  the  malignity 
of  feeling  toward  Geneva  throughout  Catholic 
Christendom.  At  last,  however,  the  designs  against 
the  town  seemed  to  be  given  up.  Pressed  by  mili- 
tary reverses,  the  duke  had  signed  a  treaty  with 
Henry  IV  of  France,  at  Vervins,  in  1598,  by  which 
the  peace  of  Geneva  was  guaranteed.  And  the 
harrassed  and  war-worn  town  had  rest  for  a  time. 

Rumors  of  plots  for  its  destruction  kept  coming 
from  various  quarters  to  the  ears  of  the  watchful 
magistracy,  and  a  "  gunpowder  treason  "  within  its 
walls  was  detected  and  foiled ;  but  the  natural 
anxiety  resulting  from  these  things  was  assiduously 
soothed  by  fair  and  friendly  words  from  the  duke 
and  his  officers. 

But  in  November,  1602,  a  letter  was  received  by 
the  magistrates  from  a  secret  friend  at  Turin, 
describing  certain  portentous  preparations  which 
he  himself  had  witnessed,  and  the  destination  of 
which  was  freely  hinted.  "  I  have  witnessed  exper- 
iments," he  wrote,  "with  terrible  engines  of  war 
destined  against  Geneva.  There  are  hurdles  for 
crossing  a  moat,  and  scaling-ladders  on  a  new  plan, 
trimmed  with  black  cloth,  and  with  grappling  irons 
at  the  end ;  they  shut  up  with  a  slide  into  small 
compass,  and  can  be  lengthened  out  without  noise, 
so  as  in  a  twinkling  to  reach  to  the  hight  of  your 
ramparts.  The  duke  seems  delighted  with  the 
preparations,  and  says  that  he  has  men  in  Geneva 


/o  Worth  Keeping. 

who  will  set  fire  in  different  places  at  the  moment 
of  the  attack.  Be  on  your  guard  day  and  night." 
The  alarm  of  the  Genevese  was  soothed  by 
renewed  and  solemn  protestations  of  friendship  on 
the  part  of  Savoy,  and  the  plot  went  on  ripening  in 
the  dark.  The  general  direction  of  it  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  renegade  Frenchman,  D'Albigny,  Lieu- 
tenant-General  of  Savoy,  and  the  execution  of  it 
was  committed  to  Bernoliere,  commandant  at 
Bonne.  The  troops  began  to  assemble  quietly  at 
different  points  of  rendezvous.  At  La  Roche  were 
1,000  Spaniards,  trained  in  the  arts  of  massacre  in 
American  campaigns  ;  there  were  400  Neapolitans 
with  500  horsemen  at  Bonneville;  these  were  the 
contribution  of  the  king  of  Spain.  Four  thousand 
of  the  "  bloody  Piedmontese,"  under  the  command 
of  100  Savoyard  nobles,  took  post  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. And  at  Bonne  Bernoliere  drew  out  his 
picked  force  of  800  Savoyards,  and  explained  to 
them  the  nature  of  the  enterprise.  "  All  I  ask," 
he  said,  "  is  one  hour  of  courage  and  fidelity."  As 
he  moved  with  his  troops  down  the  valley  of  the 
Arve,  one  company  after  another  fell  punctually 
into  the  line  of  march.  It  was  night  already  when 
they  rounded  the  shoulder  of  the  little  Saleve,  and 
the  lights  of  Geneva,  a  two-hours'  march  distant, 
twinkled  through  the  darkness.  At  this  point  a 
figure  muffled  and  disguised,  emerged  from  a  cot- 
tage, attended  by  a  retinue,  and  received  the 
humble  salutations  of  the  commanding  officers. 


The  Feast  of  the  Escalade.  71 

The  courage  of  the  troops  rose  to  a  high  pitch 
when  the  fact  was  whispered  that  it  was  Duke 
Charles  Emmanuel,  who  had  crossed  the  Alps  to 
witness  the  victory  that  was  to  give  him  the  title  of 
king,  and  open  to  him  a  magnificent  career  of  con- 
quest and  empire,  ending  in  the  extinction  of  the 
Protestant  powers  of  Europe. 

The  whole  force,  several  thousand  strong,  moved 
down  the  course  of  the  Arve,  screened  by  the 
thickets  on  its  banks,  towards  the  devoted  city. 
For  a  password  they  were  to  imitate  the  croaking 
of  the  frogs.  At  midnight  they  were  posted 
within  earshot  of  the  city  wall,  and  Bernoliere, 
with  his  forlorn  hope  of  300  men  in  complete 
armor,  bearing  the  apparatus  that  had  been  elabo- 
rated in  the  armories  of  Turin,  crept  up  to  the 
town,  descended  into  the  moat,  and  stood  with 
bated  breath  against  the  rampart.  All  was  still  in 
the  town.  Noiselessly  the  muffled  scaling-ladders 
slid  in  their  grooves  and  stretched  themselves  up 
to  the  hight  of  the  parapet.  A  Scotch  Jesuit, 
Alexander  Young,  moved  from  man  to  man,  whis- 
pering words  of  encouragement,  and  distributing 
amulets  that  were  to  keep  the  wearer  safe  from 
sword,  water  and  fire.  This  done,  the  three  hun- 
dred went  swiftly  up  the  wall,  and  stowed  them- 
selves behind  the  parapet.  A  solitary  watchman, 
drowsing  in  a  neighboring  sentry-box,  was  throt- 
tled and  murdered  before  he  could  utter  a  cry. 
The  first  and  most  perilous  step  was  successful. 


72  Worth  Keeping. 

Bernoliere  despatches  a  messenger  to  D'Albigny, 
at  the  head  of  the  reserve,  and  he,  elated  with  the 
news,  sends  couriers  at  once  to  the  monarch  wait- 
ing anxiously  on  the  brow  of  the  Saleve.  Success 
seems  sure ;  and  without  further  waiting,  the 
couriers  of  Charles  Emmanuel  ride  forth  towards 
Turin,  Rome,  Paris  and  Madrid,  announcing  that 
"  the  Protestant  Babylon  "  is  fallen. 

Much,  however,  remains  to  be  done.  As  in  most 
old  towns,  there  was  to  be  traced  within  the 
rampart  the  line  of  an  earlier  wall,  marked  by 
unbroken  blocks  of  building,  with  here  and  there  a 
gateway,  now  unfortified,  and  only  negligently 
guarded.  The  whole  matter  had  been  completely 
studied.  There  were  to  be  five  companies,  each 
under  the  command  of  an  officer  familiar  with  the 
place.  One  was  to  rush  down  to  the  river  gate  by 
the  Rhone  bridge ;  one  was  to  burst  a  passage 
through  the  block  of  houses  next  them,  and  so  get 
into  the  principal  street ;  a  third  should  attempt 
the  little  gate  and  steep,  narrow,  crooked  street  of 
the  Tertasse ;  a  fourth  should  climb  the  Treille, 
and  enter  by  the  great  gate  near  the  City  Hall  and 
Arsenal ;  and  the  fifth  party,  equipped  with  axes 
and  petards,  were  to  hasten  to  the  inside  of  the 
great  gate  of  the  outer  fortifications,  surprise  and 
overpower  the  guard,  and,  planting  the  petard,  were 
to  blow  open  the  gate,  sally  forth  and  let  down  the 
drawbridge,  and  give  free  ingress  to  D'Albigny  and 
his  army,  who  waited  for  the  explosion  as  their 
signal  to  approach. 


The  Feast  of  the  Escalade.  73 

But  Bernoliere  has  resolved  to  await  the  first 
gleam  of  dawn  before  beginning  this  complex  oper- 
ation. Meanwhile  the  men  in  armor  are  lying  hid 
behind  the  parapet.  But  about  two  o'clock,  a 
light  is  seen  approaching  along  the  rampart.  It  is  a 
patrol  making  its  round.  With  desperate  and 
instant  resolution  the  invaders  spring  from  their 
ambush  upon  the  watchmen,  and  pitch  five  of  them 
down  into  the  moat ;  but  in  the  struggle  a  gun  goes 
off,  and  one  of  the  number,  the  drummer,  escapes, 
running  for  his  life  toward  the  river-gate,  drum- 
ming furiously  as  he  goes.  All  is  discovered.  The 
attack  is  ordered  instantly.  But  the  big  bell  of  St. 
Peter's  begins  to  boom  out  its  alarm,  and  the 
startled  citizens,  half-dressed  and  half-armed,  swarm 
into  the  dark  streets  to  defend  their  homes.  The 
first  fight  was  at  the  river-gate.  The  Spaniards 
had  forced  the  first  barrier,  and  came  screaming 
through  the  vaulted  passage  with  shouts  of  triumph 
and  cries  of  "  Kill !  kill ! "  but  were  met  by  the 
crowd  of  citizens,  and  driven  back.  Elsewhere  in 
the  streets  the  fight  was  fierce  and  bloody.  But 
for  all  their  armor,  the  Spaniards  were  forced  back- 
wards toward  their  place  of  entrance,  leaving  their 
dead  behind  them.  The  hope  of  success  now  lay 
in  the  admission  of  the  reserves.  The  petard  party 
soon  overcame  and  dispersed  the  guard  posted 
within  the  gate,  but  not  till  one  of  these  had  let 
fall  the  portcullis,  interposing  thus  a  fatal  delay 
between  the  petardier  and  his  work.  One  of  the 


74  Worth  Keeping. 

escaped  guard  hurried  to  a  neighboring  bastion  and 
touched  off  a  cannon  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with 
nails  and  old  iron,  and  trained  along  the  line  of  the 
rampart.  Down  came  the  scaling-ladders,  broken 
and  shattered  ;  and  the  retreating  invaders,  arriving 
at  the  parapet,  had  no  choice  but  to  make  the  leap, 
with  all  their  crushing  weight  of  armor  on,  or  to 
give  themselves  up  as  prisoners,  to  be  hung  as 
burglars  and  assassins.  The  sound  of  the  cannon 
was  understood  by  D'Albigny  as  his  signal  to 
advance,  and  he  hurried  to  the  gate  to  discover  that 
the  enterprise  was  a  failure.  There  is  no  course 
left  him  but  the  back  track.  On  his  way,  he  meets 
Charles  Emmanuel  with  his  retinue,  coming  down 
with  martial  music  to  make  his  triumphal  entry 
into  Geneva.  "  Turn  back,  my  lord !  all's  lost," 
was  the  general's  salutation.  "You  wretched 
blockhead  !  a  pretty  mess  you  have  made  of  it," 
was  the  royal  reply.  And  without  further  words 
the  monarch  took  his  way  toward  Turin.  The  first 
good  news  had  gone  before  him,  and  every  village 
through  which  he  had  to  pass  was  decorated  to 
greet  the  conquerer.  But  the  strangest  encounter 
of  that  humiliating  march  was  when  the  duke  came, 
at  Annecy,  upon  a  train  of  mules  laden  with  church 
furniture  and  decorations,  to  be  used  when  Francis 
de  Sales,  who  was  deeper  in  this  scoundrelly  plot 
than  his  biographers  admit,  should  say  his  Christ- 
mas mass  in  the  Geneva  Cathedral. 

When  at  last  the  tardy  morning  dawned,  after 


The  Feast  of  the  Escalade.  75 

the  longest  night  in  all  the  year  (the  morning  of 
December  I2th,  the  22d,  new  style — just  eighteen 
years  before  the  landing  at  Plymouth),  and  the 
crowds  stood  gazing  at  the  pools  of  blood,  the 
broken  ladders,  the  battered  armor,  and  the  corpses 
of  friend  and  foe  strewing  the  street,  some  one 
bethought  him  to  go  to  the  house  where  old  Theo- 
dore de  Beza,  last  survivor  of  the  Reformers,  infirm 
and  very  deaf,  had  slept  the  night  through  uncon- 
scious of  the  storm  that  had  been  roaring  all  about 
him.  They  led  the  old  man  to  the  scene  of  the 
fight,  and  when  he  had  been  made  to  understand 
the  strange  story,  he  pointed  up  to  the  great  church 
and  said :  "  Come,  let  us  go  up  to  the  house  of  the 
Lord."  And  there,  standing  in  the  pulpit,  he  gave 
out,  in  Beza's  version,  the  I24th  Psalm :  "If  it  had 
not  been  the  Lord  was  on  our  side ; "  and  that  is 
the  Psalm  which,  every  year,  as  the  anniversary 
comes  round,  they  sing  in  memory  of  the  great 
deliverance. 

When  you  come  to  Geneva,  go  to  the  Arsenal, 
and  look  at  the  ingenious  scaling-ladders,  the  dark 
lanterns,  the  petard,  still  loaded,  that  was  to  have 
blown  up  the  gate,  and  at  the  suits  of  Spanish 
armor,  still  holding  arquebus  and  halberd  in  their 
gloves  of  steel,  and  gazing  grimly  through  their 
visors  at  the  relics  of  their  atrocious  and  unsuc- 
cessful crime,  and  call  to  mind  the  story  of  The 
Escalade, 


76  Worth  Keeping. 


THE  UNHARMED  ROCK. 


MY  home  in  boyhood  was  beside  the  sea ; 
And  evermore,  far  as  the  eye  could  sweep, 

Old  Ocean  lay  outstretched 

There  was  a  grand  old  Rock  that,  from  the  main 

Off  a  few  furlongs,  lifted  its  huge  form 

Up  from  the  deep,  o'erspreading  many  a  rood, 

And  rearing  high  in  air  its  craggy  head. 

All  gray  with  time,  and  scarred  with  fissures  rude, 

It  seemed,  where  stood  its  ponderous  masses  piled, 

Compact  together,  as  if  giant  hands, 

At  some  forgotten  date,  had  heaped  them  there 

To  stand  amidst  the  sea  a  monument 

Of  giant  might,  in  mockery  of  weak  man : 

Or  as  some  wandering  star,  its  orbit  lost, 

Had  into  earth  been  hurled,  and  plunging  down 

Sheer  through  the  startled  waters,  had  itself 

Fast  planted  in  its  bed  to  move  no  more. 

O  hoary  Rock  !  'tis  many  and  many  a  year 

Since,  in  my  boyhood's  sports,  I  climbed  thy  sides, 

Hid  in  thy  clefts,  or  from  some  angle  cast 

The  tempting  bait,  or  on  thy  summit  stood 

Well  pleased  and  yet  half-awed,  beneath  my  feet 

To  feel  thee  motionless  'mid  tumbling  floods. 

E'en  then  came  deeper  thoughts,  that  stirred  by  thee 

Chastened  my  lighter  moods  ;  thoughts  of  the  years, 

The  ages,  through  which  thou  hadst  changeless  lain, 


The  Unharmed  Rock.  77 

Thy  rough  stern  features  to  the  sky  upturned ; 
Thy  cliffs  unyielding,  which  ten  thousand  times 
Huge  billows  had  assailed  that  thundering  came 
With  mighty  onset  and  o'ervvhelming  seemed. 


The  memory  of  thee,  grand  Rock,  instructs 
My  riper  thought.     For  me  to-day  thou  stand'st 
Of  Truth  the  symbol ;  —  Truth  by  God  unveiled 
In  majesty  divine  ;  — the  Word  from  heaven  ;  — 
The  Truth  itself,  whose  name  is  CHRIST;  —  a  name 
Sounded  through  ages  by  prophetic  lyres  ; 
Foundation  sure  of  man's  immortal  hope. 
Builded  on  this,  Church  of  the  living  God, 
Securely  hast  thou  through  the  centuries  stood, 
And  standest  still,  amid  time's  surging  seas, 
And  shalt,  till  time  itself  shall  be  no  more  ! 

Dark  Unbelief,  dim  wisdom  born  of  earth, 

Still,  if  thou  wilt,  thy  venturous  charge  renew ! 

A  thousand  times  repulsed,  go  yet  again 

And  try  the  bootless  onset.     Learn  once  more, 

To  thine  own  shame,  how  impotent  thou  art, 

When  from  God's  Truth,  unharmed,  thy  blows  recoil, 

And  shivered  at  thy  feet  thy  weapons  lie ; 

As  backward  from  the  surge-repelling  Rock  — 

Itself  unmoved — are  flung  the  headlong  waves ! 


78  Worth  Keeping. 


HOW  TO  READ  HISTORY. 


HE  idea  often  entertained  in  regard  to  read- 
ing history  would  be  amusing  if  it  were  not 
pitiable.  People  say,  as  if  announcing 
inevitable  trial :  "  I  really  must  read  some  history ; 
I  am  mortified  that  I  have  read  so  little.  Would 
you  begin  with  Rollin  ? " 

"  Why  Rollin  ? " 

"  I  supposed  one  had  to  begin  with  him." 

The  tone  becoming  still  more  tragical.  Then  I 
arouse  myself. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  read  history  ? " 

"  Yes,"  —  sadly  but  firmly. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  everybody  ought  to  know  something 
of  the  past." 

"  Why  ? "  I  persist. 

"  Well,  look  at  yourself,  for  instance ;  your  knowl- 
edge of  history  adds  so  much  to  your  pleasure 
when  you  travel,  and  seems  to  help  you  so  much  in 
your  criticisms  of  the  life  and  literature  of  to-day." 

"  But  why  do  you  sigh  as  if  you  were  a  martyr? " 

"  Because  I  hate  history ;  it  is  dull,  it  is  con- 
fused ;  I  cannot  remember  it." 


How  to  Read  History.  79 

"  Do  you  forget  the  novels  you  read  last  summer, 
or  the  people  you  met  at  the  seashore  ? " 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  they  are  different.  Why, 
the  novels  were  interesting,  and  the  people  were 
either  so  charming  or  so  disagreeable,  so  brilliant 
or  so  stupid,  that  I  must  be  a  dunce  to  forget 
them." 

"  Is  there  no  one  among  all  historical  people  that 
you  care  about  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  should  like  to  know  about  Richard  the 
Lion  Hearted." 

"  Then,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  -sensible,  why, 
if  you  want  to  find  out  about  Richard  of  the  Lion 
Heart,  do  you  begin  with  Rollin's  Ancient 
History  ? " 

"  I  supposed  you  had  to  take  a  course." 

And  again  appears  the  tone  of  heroic  melan- 
choly, as  if  "  taking  a  course  "  was  only  a  little  less 
to  be  deplored  than  scaling  the  enemy's  works  with 
the  forlorn  hope.  Now  what  should  I  do  if  I  was 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  responsibility  towards 
history,  and  the  only  person  I  cared  about  within 
her  ranks  was  he  of  the  Lion  Heart  ?  Go  to  Lin- 
gard's  endless  volumes ;  to  Hallam's  Middle  Ages ; 
Milman's  Latin  Christianity,  or  any  of  the  ponder- 
ous histories  of  the  Crusades  ?  No,  I  should  put 
my  magic  lantern  in  order,  hang  up  my  screen  and 
throw  upon  it  again  and  again  those  marvelous 
pictures  of  my  hero  from  Ivanhoe,  The  Talisman 
and  the  Betrothed.  Through  these  pictures  I 


8o  Worth  Keeping. 

should  sit  beside  Richard  in  palace  and  chamber ; 
should  kneel  with  him  at  the  high  altar,  and  strike 
with  him  on  the  tented  field.  I  should  look  into 
his  bright  blue  eyes ;  should  see  his  yellow  hair 
waving  in  the  soft  southern  air ;  and  dare  say  for  a 
time  should  not  care  where  or  in  what  century  he 
lived  his  mortal  life. 

But  after  I  knew  Richard  as  I  know  my  own 
brothers,  I  should  surely  ask,  who  is  the  lovely 
woman  he  alternately  caresses  and  despises  ?  His 
Queen  Berengaria  ?  How  came  she  his  Queen  ? 
Why  lingers  she  here  on  these  blood-stained  sands 
instead  of  living  at  ease  in  the  stately  palaces  of 
distant  England  ?  Ah,  you  see  I  am  driven  to 
Agnes  Strickland's  Lives  of  the  Queens  of  Eng- 
land, without  dreaming  of  them  as  history  at  all. 
Fancy  how  I  should  devour  every  word  of  her 
record!  Those  with  whom  she  spent  her  days, 
whom  she  loved,  whom  hated,  would  be  to  me 
more  than  the  companions  of  my  own  bed  and 
board.  And  as  I  note  how  after  some  act  of  weak- 
ness or  folly  she  crouches  terror-stricken  before  her 
enraged  husband,  and  read  that  with  all  the  vio- 
lence of  his  race  he  roughly  thrust  her  from  him, 
shall  I  not  inquire,  what  was  this  man's  race  that 
he  excuses  his  savage  excesses  by  saying  :  "  As  of 
old  the  Plantagenet  is  the  offspring  of  a  fiend  ? " 
And  the  brothers  with  whom  he  was  always  striv- 
ing, and  that  Philip,  who  sent  like  wildfire  through 
Europe  the  warning  cry :  "  Look  out  for  yourselves, 


How  to  Read  History.  81 

the  devil  is  loose  again,"  when  he  escaped  from  one 
of  his  innumerable  captivities,  can  I  rest  until  I 
know  all  that  any  one  knows  of  them  ? 

And  as  I  find  myself  in  the  presence  of  his 
parents,  that  Henry  and  that  Eleanor  of  bitter 
memory,  and  see  the  latter  hunting,  like  a  sleuth 
hound,  the  husband  for  whom  she  had  sinned  so 
grievously  to  the  hidden  bower  of  Rosamond,  and 
ever  after,  in  burning  revenge,  stirring  up  the  fiery 
hearts  of  their  wretched  brood  of  sons  against 
him  ;  or  hear  the  shrill  cries  of  Becket's  murderers 
disturbing  the  midnight  dreams  of  shuddering 
Europe,  and,  last  of  all,  shrink  with  horror  from  the 
blasphemous  curse  that  Henry  flings  back  upon  his 
God  as  he  writhes  on  his  frenzied  death-bed,  must  I 
not  find  out  what  age  of  this  unhappy  world  could 
harbor  so  much  of  human  misery  ?  And  as  Plan- 
tagenet,  Angevin  Norman  and  Saxon,  cross  and 
recross  the  confused  pages,  shall  I  not  be  driven  to 
Freeman's  Norman  Conquest  lest  my  brain  should 
reel  in  its  frenzy  of  ignorance  ? 

No  fear  of  any  stopping  now.  I  shall  trace 
the  stream  to  its  source,  and  even  reach  Roll  in  in 
time.  I  shall  not  be  contented  with  rapid  strides 
in  that  direction  alone.  I  shall  insist  on  under- 
standing each  particular  in  the  lives  of  those 
who  sat  in  Richard's  seat,  and  won  his  crown 
after  he  had  laid  it  by.  So  you  see  I  should 
find  myself  possessed  of  all  historical  knowledge 
through  my  interest  in  this  daring  crusader,  whose 
6 


82  Worth  Keeping. 

sword  and  shield  have  hung  rusted  and  dull  for  so 
many  centuries. 

I  am  convinced,  for  almost  all  readers,  this  is  the 
only  way  to  read  history  with  profit.  As  well  eat 
when  you  are  not  hungry,  as  read  when  you  are  not 
interested;  and,  unfortunately,  the  older  histories 
are  dull  through  their  formalism  and  pedantry,  and 
will  only  be  sought  by  those  born  with  a  passion  to 
know  how  time  has  been  filled  up  since  the  flood. 

So  the  way  is  to  take  anybody  you  care  for,  and 
plunge  in ;  the  wave  that  bore  him  on  will  sweep 
you  into  the  current  of  universal  knowledge. 


Fear  as  a  Motive  in  Religion.  83 


FEAR  AS  A  MOTIVE  IN  RELIGION. 


WON'T  be  frightened  into  being  a  Chris- 
tian any  way,  he  said,  and  put  an  end  to 
the  conversation. 

I  had  heard  young  people  say  the  same  thing 
before,  and  had  always  thought  it  a  piece  of  foolish 
bravado  suggested  by  the  devil,  as  the  sinner's 
short  cut  across  convictions  crowding  the  soul  a 
little  too  "closely;  but  one  does  not  like  to  say 
uncomplimentary  things  always,  even  when  they 
leap  to  his  tongue  for  utterance,  and  so  I  had  been 
often  at  a  loss  how  to  meet  the  objection,  or  rather 
the  mood  which  let  such  an  objection  turn  the  soul 
away  from  Christ. 

Now  I  went  home  and  thought  about  it.  "  Won't 
be  frightened  into  being  a  Christian  ! "  Is  fear  dis- 
honorable to  a  man,  or  a  boy  trying  to  be  a  man  ? 

Coward  —  that  is  a  bad  word  ;  it  cannot  be  freed 
from  its  disreputable  associations  —  but  is  fear 
cowardice  ?  the  man  who  is  afraid  a  coward  ? 

There  are  certainly  two  things  one  may  fear  and 
still  keep  his  self-respect :  danger  and  wrong. 

I  ride  under  some  towering  top  of  an  Alpine 
mountain,  and  just  as  I  am  passing  I  see  a  huge 


84  Worth  Keeping. 

mass  of  snow  and  ice  breaking  off  its  frowning 
front,  and  I  shout  to  my  companions  :  "  Backward, 
for  your  lives!"  and  the  avalanche  does  not  bury 
us,  nor  carry  our  crushed  bodies  down  the  moun- 
tain side.  Was  the  fear  that  blanched  niy  cheek, 
forced  out  that  warning  cry  and  made  me  run  for 
my  life,  a  thing  to  be  ashamed  of  ?  No,  for  the 
danger  was  real,  and  fear  natural. 

If  one  congratulates  himself  on  so  promptly 
obeying  the  instinct  of  fear  in  avoiding  great  per- 
sonal danger,  ought  he  to  be  ashamed  if  he  dis- 
covers, among  the  things  prompting  him  to  be  a 
Christian,  the  dangers  which  threaten  his  soul  if 
he  is  not  a  Christian  ?  Why  is  one  peril  to  be 
avoided  and  the  other  to  be  braved?  Self-respect 
does  not  forbid,  but  commands,  that  we  shun  both. 

Then  there's  the  fear  of  wrong;  that  is  certainly 
not  cowardice.  A  group  of  little  fellows  on  the 
street  are  planning  for  coasting  on  Sunday.  Two 
of  them  are  in  doubt  about  it ;  have  not  been  used 
to  that  sort  of  thing ;  they  are  afraid  it  is  wrong. 
But  boy  argument  and  a  little  expressive  contempt 
soon  silence  one,  and  he  says  :  "  I'll  go  ; "  but  the 
other  holds  out,  and  says  finally :  "  I  can't  go." 
Which  is  the  coward  ?  The  boy  who  dares  to  do 
wrong,  or  the  one  who  is  afraid  to  do  wrong  ? 

A  young  man  stands  looking  inquiringly  "at  the 
Christian  life.  Its  self-denials,  its  duties,  its  effect 
upon  his  companionship,  all  these  things  make  him 
afraid  of  it.  And  yet  he  knows  and  feels  the 


Fear  as  a  Motive  in  Religion,  85 

danger  of  neglecting  God's  call  to  him.  While 
balancing  the  two  courses,  the  two  sets  of  motives* 
somebody  says  to  him  with  a  solemnity  that  irri- 
tates him :  "  It  is  dangerous  to  delay,"  or,  "  This 
may  be  your  last  chance,"  and  the  devil  shows  him 
at  once  his  short  cut  out  of  his  hesitation,  and  he 
says :  "  I  won't  be  frightened  into  religion."  But 
in  turning  with  a  brave  air  from  the  fear  which 
drew  him  to  Christ,  and  an  honorable,  manly,  safe 
Christian  life,  he  is  received  into  the  embrace  of 
another  class  of  fears,  which  more  and  more  involve 
him  in  self-indulgence,  in  weakness,  in  a  downward 
course  of  life. 

Which  set  of  fears  stamp  the  mark  of  cowardice 
upon  him  ?  Fear  of  wrong  is  not  cowardice.  It  is 
only  the  devil's  sophistry  which  makes  it  appear  so 
to  ill-taught  men.  Fear  of  wrong  is  the  revolt  of 
our  moral  nature  against  immorality ;  it  is  the  echo 
of  God's  voice  in  our  soul,  making  us  know  his 
will ;  but  the  devil  takes  this  noble  fear,  and  dis- 
guises it  till  it  appears,  in  the  consciousness  made 
murky  by  selfish  purposes  already  having  their 
way,  as  a  fear  of  pain  or  suffering  —  against  which 
it  seems  an  honorable  thing  in  man  to  rise  in  resist- 
ance. But  the  man  who  is  not  deceived  knows 
that  fear  of  wrong  is  God's  sentinel  put  on  guard 
at  the  door  of  his  conscience,  to  keep  him  from 
surrendering  his  conscience  into  traitorous  hands 
and  to  manacles  and  chains. 

But  that  fear  of  danger  and  fear  of  wrong  are 


86  Worth  Keeping. 

thus  not  dishonorable  in  men,  is  not  all  there  is  to 
be  said  in  favor  of  fear  as  a  motive  in  religion.  A 
close  examination  of  what  fear  is,  shows  that  it  is 
often  love,  reverence,  faith  in  crude  form  ;  is  to  the 
finer,  more  exalted  emotions  of  the  Christian  what 
pig-iron  is  to  polished  steel.  Fear  is  the  ore  that 
the  thought  of  God  digs  out  of  the  untutored 
human  spirit,  which  knowledge  of  God  shapes  into 
the  brighter  forms  of  faith  and  love.  The  same 
things  about  God  that  inspire  fear,  on  a  better 
acquaintance,  inspire  love,  faith,  trust. 

At  my  examination  for  entrance  to  college,  I 
stood  in  such  awe  of  one  of  the  professors,  that 
when  he  turned  his  sharp  eyes  upon  me  suddenly 
and  put  a  simple  question  to  me,  I  shook  with  fear, 
and  my  tongue  absolutely  refused  to  do  its  office. 
I  came  to  know  him  well  afterward,  in  the  recita- 
tion room,  in  long  walks  over  the  hills,  at  his  table, 
in  his  family,  and  I  can  see  plainly  that  the  same 
qualites  in  him  which  made  me  fear  him  once,  are 
precisely  what  call  out  the  strong  respect  and  affec- 
tion I  now  feel  for  him. 

Fear  is  the  tribute  weakness  pays  to  strength, 
littleness  to  greatness,  humility  to  majesty — but 
when  strength  is  seen  to  stoop  to  help  weakness, 
greatness  to  condescend  to  littleness,  majesty  to 
woo  humility,  the  first  impulse  of  fear  does  not  so 
much  give  way  before,  as  change  into,  trust  and 
love. 

So  the  strength  of  God,  which  to  the  untaught 


Fear  as  a  Motive  in  Religion.  87 

soul  suggests -fear,  to  the  same  soul  admitted  to 
acquaintance  with  Him  supports  confidence;  the 
justice  of  God,  which  to  the  untaught  soul  suggests 
terror,  to  the  same  soul  admitted  to  acquaintance 
with  Him  supports  respect;  the  majesty  of  God, 
which  to  the  untaught  soul  suggests  dread,  to  the 
same  soul  admitted  to  acquaintance  with  Him  sup- 
ports reverence. 

In  neglecting  the  motives  to  religion  which  lie  in 
men's  fears,  there  is  danger  of  teaching  men  want 
of  respect  for  God.  And  we  can  no  more  love 
and  honor  God  than  a  man,  without  respecting  him 
tirst.  A  wholesome  fear  of  God,  awakened  by 
right  conceptions  of  His  holiness  and  justice,  is  the 
surest  introduction  to  appreciation  of  His  love  in 
Christ.  "  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that 
fear  Him  " 


88  Worth  Keeping. 


YUNG  WING. 


|HE  first  Chinese  known  to  have  been  in 
the  United  States  for  education  were  three 
boys,  who  were  in  the  short-lived  Foreign 
Mission  School  at  Cornwall,  Conn.,  about  the  year 
1825,  and  little  more  can  now  be  learned  of  them 
than  that  they  were  there. 

The  next  were  also  a  company  of  three  boys, 
who  were  brought  to  this  country  in  1847  by  their 
teacher,  the  Rev.  S.  R.  Brown,  Principal  of  the 
Morrison  School  at  Hong  Kong.  Their  names 
were  Wong  Fun,  Wong  Shing  and  Yung  Wing. 
They  were  sent  to  Monson  Academy,  and  were 
received  into  the  family  of  Mr.  Brown's  mother, 
who  lived  in  Monson  and  who  is  memorable  in  the 
church  as  the  author  of  the  hymn :  "  I  love,  to  steal 
awhile  away."  It  was  probably  due  to  their  asso- 
ciation with  this  saintly  woman,  more  than  to  any 
other  means  of  grace,  that  there  at  Monson  they 
all  became  Christians. 

Wong  Fun,  after  three  years  went,  in  1850,  to 
Edinburgh,  Scotland,  where  he  graduated  in  medi- 
cine with  honor,  and  whence  he  returned  to  China 
in  1856  to  establish  himself  as  a  physician  in  the 


Yung  Wing.  89 

city  of  Canton.  His  professional  career  was  an 
extraordinary  success.  He  soon  became  famous, 
alike  for  his  ability  and  for  his  character ;  he  was 
highly  esteemed  by  all  who  knew  him,  and  he  died 
in  October,  1878,  widely  regretted  Wong  Shing 
was  compelled  by  ill  health  to  go  back  to  China  the 
year  following  his  arrival  in  America.  Having 
learned  the  art  of  printing  in  the  office  of  The 
China  Mail,  he  became,  in  1852  or  1853,  connected 
with  the  press  of  the  London  Mission  at  Hong 
Kong,  under  Dr.  Legge,  now  of  Oxford  University, 
and  continued  in  that  employment  till  quite 
recently.  He  is  now  an  official  interpreter  of  the 
Chinese  Embassy  to  the  United  States,  but  for 
the  present  on  duty  with  the  Chinese  Educational 
Mission  at  Hartford.  He  was  received  a  few 
weeks  since  into  the  Asylum  Hill  Congregational 
Church  in  Hartford,  on  the  evidence  of  credentials 
which  showed  that  he  had  been  for  thirty  years  a 
consistent  member,  and  for  fifteen  years  a  faithful 
deacon,  of  the  native  church  of  Christ  in  Hong 
Kong. 

If  Brother  Elaine  of  Maine  should  chance  to  be 
in  Hartford,  and  in  the  Asylum  Hill  Congrega- 
tional Church  on  a  communion  Sunday,  when 
Brother  Wong  Shing  chanced  to  be  serving  as  sub- 
stitute in  the  deacon's  office  at  the  Lord's  Table — 
an  incident  not  unlikely  to  occur  —  he  might  rec- 
ognize an  occasion  for  revising  and  perhaps  some- 
what qualifying  his  late  verdict  respecting  the 


QO  Worth  Keeping. 

possibility  of  Chinese  evangelization.  It  was  one  of 
Wong  Shing's  remarks,  while  Congress  was  voting 
that  the  Chinese  must  go,  that  he  was  very  glad 
that  no  one  would  be  shut  out  of  Heaven  who 
believed  in  Christ. 

The  youngest  of  the  three,  Yung  Wing,  for 
whom,  as  events  have  proved,  Divine  Providence 
had  marked  out  so  great  a  work  in  the  future,  was 
the  only  one  who  completed  his  education  in  this 
country.  He  entered  Yale  College  in  1850,  the 
first  Chinese  student  the  institution  had  ever  seen. 
His  life  in  college  was  full  of  interest,  but  cannot 
here  be  described.  One  circumstance  that  at  the 
time  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  him  was 
his  twice  gaining  a  prize  for  English  composition. 
He  graduated,  with  credit,  in  1854,  and  at  once 
sailed  for  China.  It  was  like  going  to  a  strange 
land.  He  had  been  in  this  country  so  long  that  it 
was  home  to  him.  He  had  nearly  forgotten  his 
native  tongue.  He  had  become  American  in  his 
thoughts,  tastes,  sympathies.  He  had  many  friends 
here,  and  here  he  would  have  dearly  loved  to  spend 
his  life.  But  he  did  not  consider  himself  at  liberty 
to  do  so.  His  sense  of  gratitude  and  of  justice 
forbade  it.  He  felt  that  his  duty  was  to  his  own 
race.  He  had  already  formed  the  plan  of  the  edu- 
cational mission.  It  had  early  become  his  convic- 
tion that  the  best  thing  he  could  do  for  his  country 
was  to  procure  for  other  Chinese  youths  the  ben- 
efit of  the  same  advantages  that  he  himself  had 


Yttng   Wing.  91 

enjoyed.  And  though  he  knew  not  how  it  was  to 
be  brought  about,  he  set  his  face  toward  China  to 
wait  on  what  God  might  there  have  in  store  for  him. 

Sixteen  years  passed  before  he  accomplished  his 
object.  They  were  years  of  delay,  patient  en- 
deavor, frustration,  disappointment  —  of  uncon- 
querable perseverance,  crowned  at  last  with 
success. 

During  the  seven  years  from  1855  to  1862, 
Yung  Wing  was,  successively,  private  secretary  to 
the  United  States  Commissioner,  law  student  at 
Hong  Kong,  translator  in  the  Customs  service 
at  Shanghai,  traveling  inland  agent  of  a  great  silk 
and  tea  house,  and  finally  for  a  brief  period  mer- 
chant on  his  own  account.  But  that  which  in  all 
these  changes  he  was  constantly  contriving  how  to 
compass,  was  such  an  access  to  persons  of  public 
consideration  and  influence,  as  would  enable  him 
to  unfold  and  advocate  his  scheme  for  the  educa- 
tion of  native  youth  abroad,  to  some  purpose.  It 
is  not  easy  to  appreciate  how  difficult  a  matter  this 
was.  He  had  to  begin  with  no/<?«  sto,  no  foothold. 

The  conditions,  in  most  particulars,  were  spe- 
cially unfavorable,  much  more  so  twenty  years  ago 
than  they  would  be  now.  But  in  1862  he  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  a  Chinese  scholar  of  eminence, 
through  whom  he  was  brought  to  the  notice  of  one 
of  the  foremost  statesmen  of  the  Empire,  the 
Viceroy  Tsang  Koh  Fan,  at  that  time  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  imperial  army  and  engaged  in 


92  Worth  Keeping. 

suppressing  the  great  Taeping  rebellion.  At  an 
interview  to  which  he  was  invited  with  Tsang  Koh 
Fan,  at  his  headquarters  in  the  field,  Yung  Wing 
made  so  favorable  an  impression  upon  him,  that  he 
was  asked  to  enter  the  government  service.  He 
consented  with  joy,  and  our  graduate  of  Yale  Col- 
lege became  a  Chinese  mandarin  of  the  fifth  rank, 
there  being  nine  grades  of  that  dignity  in  the 
Chinese  official  system. 

Declining  the  offer  of  a  military  command  on 
the  score  of  lack  of  qualification,  he  soon  after  this, 
in  1864,  was  dispatched  to  the  United  States  to 
purchase  the  machinery  that  was  the  foundation  of 
the  Shanghai  Arsenal.  For  the  manner  in  which 
he  discharged  this  important  duty  he  received  his 
first  promotion  in  rank,  which  was  to  the  next 
higher  grade,  the  fourth.  He  was  now  in  a  posi- 
tion to  do  something  for  the  furtherance  of  his 
educational  project,  and  he  improved  his  opportu- 
nity to  the  utmost.  He  was  in  frequent  intercourse 
with  many  of  the  leading  public  men  of  his 
country,  and  he  never  wearied  of  urging  upon 
their  notice  the  subject  that  lay  nearest  his  heart. 
He  pleaded,  especially,  that  it  was  for  the  interest 
of  China  —  that  it  was  her  obvious  necessity  —  in 
view  of  her  rapidly  extending  commercial  and 
political  relations,  to  provide  for  herself  a  corps  of 
young  men,  fitted  by  foreign  residence  and  study 
to  understand  and  handle  international  affairs.  He 
took  the  patriotic  ground  that  it  was  impolitic  and 


Yung   Wing.  93 

unseemly  that  the  public  service  should  be  so 
largely  in  the  hands  of  foreigners.  But  good  as 
his  reasons  were,  and  though  he  put  them  forth 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  his  nature,  few  had  ears 
to  hear  them.  There  were  three  men,  however, 
upon  whom  he  made  an  impression  —  all  men  of 
commanding  influence.  They  were  the  Viceroy 
Tsang  Koh  Fan,  already  named  ;  the  Viceroy  Li 
Hung  Chang,  the  same  who  is  now  Chinese  Prime 
Minister,  and  Ting  Yi  Tchearg,  Governor  of  the 
Province  of  Kiang  Su.  Yet  impressed  and  con- 
vinced as  they  were,  they  shrank  from  going  for- 
ward in  the  matter.  The  time  was  not  ripe ;  the 
obstacles  were  too  many  ;  the  risk  was  too  great. 

Other  years  passed,  bringing  alternations  of  hope 
and  fear,  but  whether  encouraged  or  discouraged, 
Wing  held  to  his  purpose  with  unchanging  con- 
stancy. He  often  doubted  if  he  should  live  to  see 
it  achieved,  but  he  never  forsook  it  for  one  hour. 

At  last,  however,  the  weary  waiting  came  to  an 
end,  and  in  a  manner  that  could  not  have  been 
anticipated.  In  1870,  five  Chinese  representatives, 
appointed  by  the  government,  met  a  committee 
representing  the  foreign  powers  in  diplomatic  rela- 
tions with  China,  to  investigate  the  affair  known 
as  the  Tientsin  Massacre,  which  had  taken  place  a 
short  time  before,  and  to  adjust  the  difficulties 
growing  out  of  it.  Three  of  these  Chinese  repre- 
sentatives—  so  it  came  to  pass — were  the  very 
three  men  above  named,  on  whom  Yung  Wing's 


94  Worth  Keeping. 

hopes  were  chiefly  placed ;  and  Yung  Wing  him- 
self was  summoned  to  assist  in  the  business. 

The  occasion  was  a  most  favorable  one  for  strik- 
ing a  blow  in  behalf  of  his  cause.  It  happened 
that  the  immediate  circumstances  were  of  a  nature 
to  illustrate  and  enforce  the  reasons  by  which  he 
had  hitherto  supported  it.  And  its  friends  were 
together.  Wing  perceived  the  opportunity  and 
seized  it.  He  once  more  earnestly  restated  his 
argument,  and  begged  that  steps  be  taken  without 
delay  to  carry  his  views  into  effect.  This  time  he 
prevailed.  The  three  great  men  resolved  to  act. 
As  the  result,  in  August,  1871,  by  imperial  decree 
the  Chinese  Educational  Mission  became  a  fact, 
and  Mandarin  Yung  Wing  was  the  happiest  man 
on  the  face  of  the  globe.  To  him  the  charge  of 
organizing  the  enterprise  was  principally  commit- 
ted, and,  with  another  promotion  in  rank,  he  was 
appointed  one  of  the  two  commissioners  entrusted 
with  its  establishment  and  direction  in  the  United 
States. 

It  is  now  seven  years  since  the  first  detachment 
of  pupils,  of  whom  there  have  been  one  hundred 
and  twenty  in  all,  arrived  to  begin  their  fifteen 
years  of  life  and  study  in  America.  Some  have 
already  entered  college ;  a  large  number  are  in  our 
best  schools  and  academies,  and  all  are  doing  well. 
Their  average  of  talent  is  high.  It  is  interesting 
to  remark  that  in  several  instances  amongst  them 
Yung  Wing's  success  in  English  composition  has 


Yung   Wing.  95 

already  been  reproduced,  and  not  a  few  of  them 
are  natural  orators.  With  scarcely  an  exception 
their  conduct  has  been  not  only  good,  but  admira- 
ble. Much  depends  on  them  ;  no  one  can  tell  how 
much.  Everything  is  to  be  hoped  for  from  them. 
How  thankfully  and  hopefully  ought  God's  people 
to  pray  for  them. 

In  December,  1876,  Yung  Wing  was  appointed 
associate  minister  with  Chin  Lan  Pin,  who  was  for 
two  years  co-commissioner  with  him  of  the  Educa- 
tional Mission  to  the  United  States,  Peru  and 
Spain.  On  this  occasion  he  received  his  third  pro- 
motion in  rank,  viz.  :  to  the  second  grade,  and  was 
invested  with  the  honorary  title  of  Taou  Tae  (or 
Intendent)  of  the  Province  of  Kiang  Su.  Last 
autumn  he  assumed  the  duties  of  his  new  office  at 
Washington,  though  he  still  retains  a  general 
supervision  of  the  Educational  Mission,  which  it 
will  readily  be  believed  is  to  him  the  object  of  an 
uncommon  affection. 

In  age,  Yung  Wing  is  in  the  near  neighborhood 
of  fifty,  though  looking  much  younger.  Of  med"  nii 
stature,  he  is  of  extraordinary  physical  strength  and 
activity.  Although  a  Chinese  official,  he  wears, 
except  on  occasions  of  ceremony,  the  English 
dress.  He  speaks  English  perfectly,  with  no 
foreign  accent.  Under  the  influence  of  great 
excitement,  however,  he  will  sometimes  mix  his 
words  a  little.  In  the  summer  of  1874  he  was 
ordered  by  his  government  to  visit  Peru,  and  look 


96  Worth  Keeping. 

into  the  condition  of  the  Chinese  coolies  in  that 
country,  and  thither  the  writer  and  another  friend 
accompanied  him.  By  what  he  heard  and  saw  he 
was  soon  filled  with  burning  indignation.  One 
day  in  the  city  of  Lima,  as  he  was  expressing  his 
wrath  more  openly  and  freely  than,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, consisted  with  prudence,  he  was 
remonstrated  with,  and  told  that  he  was  putting 
his  life  in  peril  to  talk  so.  Whereupon  he  hotly 
replied  :  "  Well,  suppose  I  am  !  Why  shouldn't  a 
man  put  his  life  in  peril  ?  May  be  it  would  be  the 
best  use  I  could  make  of  my  life  to  lay  it  down 
right  here  in  Lima !  If  I  thought  so,  I  would  do  it ! 
I  should  have  no  delicacy  about  it  at  all!  "  He  was 
assured  that,  however  it  might  be  with  him,  his 
companions  did  feel  considerable  delicacy  upon  the 
subject,  and  wanted  more  time  to  consider  it. 

A  man  of  high,  true  courage  is  Yung  Wing,  and 
not  much  afraid  of  men.  When,  at  the  close  of 
this  same  visit  to  Peru,  he  was  presented  to  the 
President  of  the  Republic,  Manuel  Pardo,  since 
assassinated,  and  the  President,  after  an  exchange 
of  courteous  greetings,  said  with  the  confident  air 
of  a  superior :  "  Well,  Mr.  Yung  Wing,  I  trust  you 
haven't  found  your  countrymen  so  very  badly 
treated  amongst  us  !  "  Wing  replied  politely  but 
gravely :  "  I  regret  to  be  compelled  to  say,  Mr. 
President,  that  I  have  found  their  condition  much 
worse  than  I  had  expected,  or  than  had  been 
reported  to  me ; "  and  in  the  conversation  that 


Yung  Wing.  97 

followed  went  on  to  say  to  His  Excellency  a  num- 
ber of  most  true  things  concerning  the  adminis- 
tration of  law  in  Peru,  which,  however  wholesome, 
it  could  scarcely  have  been  agreeable  to  hear; 
while  his  friends,  it  must  be  confessed,  sat  out  the 
interview  on  rather  ureasy  chairs,  and  were  glad 
when  it  was  over.  Yet  Senor  Pardo,  who  was  one 
of  the  best  men  Peru  ever  had,  took  it  all  appar- 
ently in  good  part ;  having,  in  fact,  no  reason  to  do 
otherwise. 

Yung  Wing  was  married  in  February,  1875,10 
Miss  Mary  L.  Kellogg-,  of  Avon,  Conn.,  grand- 
daughter on  both  her  father's  and  her  mother's 
side  of  Congregational  ministers,  and  the  wedding 
was  in  the  old  parsonage  where  one  of  them  died. 
Viewing  the  company  assembled,  the  Chinese 
friends  of  the  bridegroom  in  their  gorgeous  cos- 
tumes mingled  with  the  other  guests  ;  considering, 
too,  the  place,  an  ancient  New  England  village,  and 
the  occasion,  one  could  not  help  wondering  what 
good  Parson  Kellogg  would  have  thought,  if  fifty 
years  ago  a  vision  of  the  scene  had  passed  before 
him.  Two  sons  are  the  fruit  of  this  marriage,  the 
elder  of  whom  was  baptized  Morrison  Brown, 
the  first  name  being  that  of  the  first  English  Prot- 
estant missionary  to  China ;  and  the  second  one 
that  of  the  man  to  whom  Yung  Wing  feels  that  he 
personally  owes  more  than  to  any  other. 

The  giving  of-  these  names  to  his  first-born,  it 
will  be  perceived,  eloquently  declares  his  Christian 


98  Worth  Keeping. 

faith  and  gratitude.  That  faith  he  has  kept,  and  it 
has  kept  him.  It  was  the  source  and  support  of 
his  patience  through  all  those  years  of. trial  and 
hope  deferred  and  lonesomeness  in  China.  It  was 
nothing,  he  has  often  told  the  writer,  but  his  con- 
viction that  God  had  a  purpose  of  good  for  his 
country  to  execute  through  him,  that  saved  him 
many  and  many  a  time  from  despair.  Again  he 
has  said  that  in  his  prayers  the  thing  he  ever  asked 
was,  that  in  all  he  did  he  might  play  into  the  plan 
of  God.  He  is  an  intense  patriot.  He  loves  China. 
He  feels  deeply  her  burdens  and  her  deficiencies 
and  her  wrongs.  When  he  considers  her  wants,  he 
says  he  wishes  that  he  was  a  youth  again,  that 
he  might  have  a  whole  life  to  give  to  her.  He 
believes  in  her  future ;  and  he  believes  that  that 
which  at  last  is  going  to  make  her  the  great  nation 
she  is  capable  of  being,  and  is  destined  to  be,  is 
what  has  given  him  his  manhood  —  faith  in  the 
living  God. 


Gone.  99 


GONE 


|HE  was  gone! 

The  last  breath  came  and  went.  The 
gaze  was  transfixed.  The  spirit  returned 
to  Him  who  gave  it.  Tenderly  he  closed  her  eye- 
lids, and  with  breaking  heart  left  the  body  of  his 
beloved  that  it  might  be  made  ready  for  burial. 

It  was  a  great,  great  change  which  her  death 
made  in  his  home.  He  bore  up  under  it  through 
the  excitement  of  the  days  which  immediately 
followed  the  sad  event,  and  then,  when  the  house 
was  again  quiet  and  the  old  routine  of  life  was 
resumed,  gave  way.  The  sense  of  loss  was  almost 
greater  than  he  could  bear. 

The  "  old  routine  "  did  I  say  ?  There  was  little 
or  none  of  the  "  old."  It  was  all  dreadfully  new. 
The  light  was  put  out,  and  the  once  bright  and 
cheery  home  was  left  in  darkness.  Where  was  she 
who  used  to  hang  upon  his  neck  when  the  hour  of 
morning  departure  came,  sending  him  forth  into 
the  world  with  her  sweet  breath  of  blessing  ? 

Gone ! 

Where  was  she  who  watched  for  his  coming  step 
at  night,  and  received  him  with  an  embrace  which  % 


IOO  Worth  Keeping. 

was  a  refreshment  in  itself,  brushing  away  with 
one  touch  as  it  were  all  the  encumbrance  of  care 
and  worry  and  trial  and  disappointment  with  which 
the  day  had  encrusted  him  ? 

Gone  ! 

How  the  word  echoed  through  the  silent  house ! 
Gone,  and  nothh.g  left  but  the  memory  of  her. 
Gone,  not  for  a  week,  nor  for  a  month,  nor  for  a 
year —  what  a  mercy  it  would  be  if  he  could  think 
of  her  returning  in  one  year,  or  even  in  five  years, 
or  ten !  but  no ;  gone  forever.  Gone,  and  all 
opportunity  of  love  and  ministry  at  an  end. 

The  house  remained  ?  Yes  ;  and  there  were  the 
pictures  on  the  walls,  and  the  books  in  the  book- 
cases, and  the  evening  paper,  damp  and  fresh. 
The  servants  came  and  went.  The  fire  burned  in 
the  grate.  The  clock  ticked  on.  The  body  of  the 
once  joyous  life  was  all  here,  but  the  soul  was  out 
of  it.  And  what  was  the  body  of  that  life  without 
its  soul  ? 

Poor  aching  heart !  Who  could  enter  into  his 
sorrow  ?  Friends  tried  to  comfort  him,  but  there 
was  little  in  their  comfort.  They  knew  nothing 
about  it.  They  had  never  been  where  he  was ; 
they  could  not  put  themselves  in  his  place.  It  was 
well-meant  talk,  but  idle  —  their  words  of  consola- 
tion. Oh,  if  the  old  days  could  only  come  back ! 
If  he  could  only  take  her  again,  as  he  had  taken 
her  a  dozen  years  before,  to  love  and  to  cherish, 
*  and  walk  with  her  once  more  over  the  path  they 


Gone.  lot 

had  trodden  together !  If  lie  might  only  make 
amends  where  he  had  fallen  short,  and  call  back 
what  had  been  repented  of,  and  put  unselfishness 
in  place  of  selfishness,  and  patience  in  place  of 
peevishness,  and  thoughtfulness  in  place  of  thought- 
lessness !  If  he  could  only  undo  some  things  he 
had  done,  and  do  some  things  he  had  left  undone ! 

But  no ;  she  was  gone. 

And  the  cry  burst  from  his  lips :  "  Oh  God  ! 
restore  her  to  me,  if  it  be  but  for  a  day !  " 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  a  soft  clear  voice  beside  him. 

It  was  her  voice.  He  awoke.  It  had  been  all  a 
terrible  dream. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised  for  that !  " 

"  But  suppose  it  had  been  true  ? " 

And  he  sat  thinking  over  the  possibility.  Here 
she  was,  the  loving  and  faithful  and  noble  wife,  still 
his  to  love  and  cherish.  The  amends  he  had 
dreamed  of  making  he  could  now  make  ;  the  things 
he  had  left  undone  he  could  now  do.  The  lesson 
which  conscience  had  taught  him  by  an  over- 
wrought imagination,  he  could  now  apply  through 
the  sober  medium  of  fact.  And  he  did.  He  was 
a  better  husband  after  this — tenderer,  gentler, 
more  helpful,  forbearing,  considerate  and  kind. 
The  very  thought  of  what  might  be,  moved  him 
with  a  great  power  to  improve  what  was. 

Are  there  some  homes  in  which  a  little  parable 


IO2  Worth  Keeping. 

like  this  may  come  with  the  force  of  a  mild  warn- 
ing ?  Are  there  some  husbands,  some  wives,  whom 
an  apparent  security  in  what  is,  has  made  a  trifle 
careless  as  to  what  may  be  ?  This  sad  word  "  gone  " 
is  being  written  over  one  door  after  another  along 
the  way.  Some  day  it  will  be  written  over  yours. 
Perhaps  your  turn  will  come  next.  If  any  tear  of 
trembling  falls  upon  this  page  as  you  read  these 
words,  let  it  be  a  tear  of  contrition  for  the  past  and 
of  promise  for  the  future.  While  she  is  yet  with 
you,  be  the  husband  you  pledged  yourself  to  be, 
and  even  more.  Have  you  laid  a  finger's  weight  of 
sorrow  on  that  dear  and  trusting  heart  ?  Before 
the  sun  goes  down  lift  it  off ;  and  never  lay  such 
there  again. 


A   Talk   With  Girls.  103 


A  TALK  WITH  GIRLS. 


OU  are  just  through  school  life,  or  perhaps 
just  finishing.  I  fear  you  have  graduated 
five  years  too  early.  Young  men  rarely 
leave  college  before  they  are  twenty-three  or  four, 
and  then  their  minds  are  none  too  mature  to  com- 
prehend the  higher  studies,  and  quite  likely  you 
are  not  over  eighteen.  If  you  were  asked  why 
you  had  rushed  through  school  days,  which,  alas  ! 
never  come  but  once,  you  would  not  like  to  say 
you  desired  to  go  into  society,  or  to  marry,  but  the 
real  reason  probably  is  because  it  is  the  fashion  to 
leave  school  in  one's  teens. 

In  our  school,  years  ago,  there  was  a  young 
woman  of  twenty-five,  whose  scholarly  but  eccen- 
tric father  had  taught  her  Greek  and  Latin,  while 
she  knew  little  of  the  lower  branches.  When  she 
came  to  the  seminary,  we  all  treated  her  as  though 
she  were  a  Feejee  Islander.  Such  foolish  pride 
have  girls  about  remaining  in  school  after  they 
come  to  sensible  years ! 

After  graduation  what  will  you  do  ?  If  you  can 
be  the  most  useful  at  home  of  any  place  in  the 
world,  by  all  means  stay  there.  A  girl  rarely 


IO4  Wort /i  Keeping. 

appreciates  the  power  she  is,  or  may  be,  in  her 
home.  A  sweet  voice,  a  cheery  smile,  a  sunny 
nature  that  will  not  be  annoyed  at  trifles,  an  unsel- 
fish disposition,  a  desire  to  minister  to  others, 
intelligence  that  makes  one  companionable,  these 
are  things  that  make  a  daughter  a  joy. 

Many  girls  fret  at  their  mothers.  If  you  had 
buried  yours,  as  I  have  mine,  and  longed  again  and 
again  for  the  one  person  in  all  the  world  who  for- 
gives everything,  and  loves  through  good  or  ill,  you 
would  wish  that  every  word  had  been  the  kindest 
your  lips  knew  how  to  utter. 

Many  girls  are  thoughtless  of  their  fathers,  who 
work  all  day  in  office  or  shop,  glad  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  that  the  daughters  may  have  pretty  things 
for  the  home  or  personal  adorning.  And  a  caress 
would  have  paid  these  fathers  a  hundred-fold! 
Nothing  repays  labor  like  love.  Strange  that  we 
give  so  little  when  it  makes  life  so  very  bright. 

Many  girls  are  rude  to  brothers,  who,  with  a 
little  tenderness,  might  have  been  won  to  the  high- 
est respect  for  womanhood.  If  they  were  always 
as  polite  to  their  own  as  they  are  to  somebody  else's 
brothers,  what  different  households  we  should  often 
have. 

Everybody  admired  Macaulay  as  a  great  essayist 
and  historian,  but  after  his  life  was  written,  and 
the  world  saw  the  beautiful  devotion  between  him 
and  his  sisters,  then  everybody  loved  him.  The 
essays  of  Elia  would  lose  half  their  beauty  did  not 


A   Talk   With  Girls.  105 

Charles  Lamb's  love  for  his  sister  Mary  run  like  a 
golden  thread  through  all. 

Make  home  so  bright,  girls,  that  your  brothers 
will  like  to  remain  there  evenings.  Thousands  of 
boys  are  ruined  by  the  idle  talk  and  temptations 
of  the  street,  especially  in  our  cities.  If  sisters 
only  knew  what  power  they  had  to  lead  these 
eager,  restive  lads  up  to  noble  manhood,  they  would 
never  fail  to  use  it.  Alas,  that  we  realize  so  many 
things  too  late ! 

Are  you  helping  to  share  the  burdens  of  the 
home  ? 

I  have  been  in  many  houses  where,  if  I  had  not 
guessed  the  relationship  by  the  family  name,  I 
should  have  thought  the  young  girls  were  simply 
boarders.  They  sat  in  the  parlor  doing  fancy 
work,  or  receiving  friends,  or  went  out  for  an 
airing,  and  let  somebody,  perchance  the  mother, 
do  the  work. 

I  know  a  lovely  Christian  home  where  there 
have  been  five  children,  three  girls  and  two  boys. 
One  daughter  has  married,  and  the  other  two  take 
entire  charge  of  the  house.  The  mother  is  cared 
for  as  tenderly  as  though  they  thought  any  day 
God  might  send  for  her.  She  controls  her  time, 
does  church  and  benevolent  work,  and  is  thankful 
for  such  rare  children. 

Are  you  learning  to  sew  and  to  cook  ? 

You  will  have  need  for  such  knowledge,  whatever 
station  in  life  you  may  occupy.  I  have  a  friend 


io6  Worth  Keeping. 

who  often  sorrows  over  spoiled  dinners,  and  while 
her  husband  is  very  fond  of  her,  he  says  :  "  If 
Hattie  only  knew  about  such  things,  it  would 
make  life  so  comfortable  ! " 

I  wonder  how  you  look  in  the  early  mornings  at 
your  own  table. 

Next  to  a  lovely  disposition,  nothing  influ- 
ences affection  more  than  neatness.  Better  wear 
a  clean  calico  than  a  dirty  silk,  on  any  occasion. 
The  world  naturally  looks  to  womanhood  for  taste 
and  delicacy  and  neatness,  and  ought  to  find  it. 
There  is  no  excuse  for  an  untidy  girl,  be  she  rich 
or  poor. 

Be  prompt  in  your  homes,  rising  at  proper  hours, 
ready  at  meals,  and  exact  as  to  appointments. 
Scarcely  anything  is  more  annoying  than  a  person 
habitually  late,  and  by  whom  others  lose  time. 
Such  habits  are  easily  formed  and  rarely  broken, 
causing  irritability  everywhere. 

Learn  to  wait  upon  yourselves.  A  girl  who 
helps  herself  is  usually  helpful  to  others. 

Next  to  being  a  Christian,  which  is  above  all  and 
includes  all  —  for  a  woman  not  to  be  a  Christian  is 
to  be  a  flower  without  fragrance  —  next  to  this,  be 
amiable.  You  may  have  the  learning  of  Aspasia, 
the  beauty  of  Mary  Stuart,  and  the  wit  of  Madam 
De  Stael,  but  unless  your  character  be  lovely,  your 
home  will  be  a  failure.  A  cheerful  disposition 
makes  the  whole  year  like  a  summer  morning. 
Such  a  girl  never  gets  cross,  or  answers  sharply, 


Five   Years  in  Heaven.  107 

passes  over  little  trials,  always  has  a  word  of 
encouragement,  always  a  happy  smile.  In  her 
daily  life,  she 

"Shows  us  how  divine  a  thing 
A  woman  may  be  made." 


FIVE  YEARS  IN  HEAVEN. 


FIVE  years  in  heaven,  my  sweet, 

And  I  five  years  without  you  — 
Years  written  over  to  the  end 

With  loving  thoughts  about  you; 
I  wonder  are  you  tall  and  wise, 

A  woman  in  your  ways, 
And  do  you  speak  the  words  out  plain 

In  your  glad  songs  of  praise  ? 

Is  there  in  heaven,  my  sweet, 

An  angel  like  a  mother  ? 
And  does  she  hold  you  very  close, 

And  do  you  kiss  each  other? 
You  were  a  little  timid  thing, 

Who  scarce  had  learned  to  walk, 
And  clung  to  gentle  mother  ways, 

And  tender  mother  talk. 

I  think  God  knows,  my  sweet, 

Your  need  of  baby  places ; 
He  will  not  let  you  droop  and  pine 

'Mid  grand  and  dazzling  faces. 
He  gives  the  little  bird  a  nest, 

The  seed  has  sunshine  duly, 
He'll  deal  with  you,  my  baby  girl, 

As  tenderly  and  truly. 


io8  Worth  Keeping. 


BARONESS  BUNSEN. 


jjOON  after  leaving  college,  in  1853,  I  read 
and  re-read  Stanley's  Life  of  Dr.  Arnold, 
one  of  the  earliest  and  one  of  the  greatest 
works  in  the  new  school  of  biography.  In  that 
book  I  came  in  contact,  for  the  first  time,  with  the 
name  of  the  German  diplomatist  and  scholar,  Baron 
Bunsen,  or,  as  he  used  to  be  called,  the  Chevalier 
Bunsen.  Later,  in  the  Life  and  Letters  of 
Niebuhr,  the  great  historian  of  Rome,  the  name 
of  Bunsen  came  into  fresh  prominence.  A  resi- 
dence in  Germany  brought  the  name  anew  into 
constant  vision  and  contact,  he  being  daily  men- 
tioned as  one  of  the  most  noted  scholars,  Chris- 
tians and  statesmen  of  Europe,  known  and  revered 
in  all  Christendom ;  rising  from  the  estate  of  a 
small  farmer's  son  to  be  the  minister  of  Prussia  to 
Switzerland,  Italy  and  England,  the  personal  and 
intimate  friend  of  the  last  king  of  Prussia  and  the 
present  Emperor,  and  one  of  the  first  half  dozen 
names,  beyond  all  dispute,  in  the  realm  of  modern 
learning,  renowned  as  a  Hebrew  scholar,  as  an 
Egyptologist,  as  an  antiquary,  and  as  a  student  in 
hymnology,  not  to  speak  of  other  fields  also  in 
which  he  was  eminent. 


Baroness  Bunsen.  109 

I  well  remember  that  Gov.  Wright,  formerly 
the  United  States  Minister  to  Prussia,  used  to 
consider  it  the  proudest  event  of  his  life  that  he 
had  had  the  privilege  of  being  the  guest  of  Bun- 
sen  for  a  few  days.  Bunsen  died  in  the  winter  of 
1860,  and  is  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  Bonn,  on 
the  Rhine,  near  to  Niebuhr  the  historian,  to  Arndt 
the  poet,  to  Schumann  the  composer,  to  Schlegel 
the  critic,  and  also  near  to  the  wife  and  son  of 
Schiller.  And  it  seems  but  yesterday  when,  in  the 
spring  of  1865,  I  stood  and  looked  at  the  medallion 
of  that  noble  head,  and  read  beneath  it  the  words : 
"  Let  us  walk  in  the  light  of  the  Eternal." 

It  was  the  wife  of  this  great  man  whose  biog- 
raphy is  now  written  by  Augustus  Hare.  She  who 
had  devoted  her  declining  strength  to  the  work  of 
describing  her  husband's  life,  and  published  that 
biography  of  him  which  is  now  well  known,  and 
is  in  many  homes,  has  herself  fallen  by  the  way, 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-five,  and  in  the  gen- 
tlest and  most  painless  of  deaths.  I  fully  assent  to 
the  strong  assertion  of  Mr.  Charles  Dudley  War- 
ner, that  no  biography  which  has  been  given  to  the 
world  "  has  the  pure  charm  of  this."  The  flow  and 
growth  of  the  story  would  itself  eclipse  any  novel 
that  has  been  written ;  indeed,  no  novelist  would 
hazard  so  bold  an  experiment  as  to  make  an  imagi- 
nary life  climb  up  stair  by  stair  to  the  social  hights 
which  were  attained  by  Baroness  Bunsen.  And 
the  book  opens  out  so  gradually  and  so  tranquilly, 


no  Worth  Keeping. 

like  the  Rhine  between  Schaffhausen  and  Bingen, 
it  passes  on  through  such  spaces  of  fruitfulness 
and  peace  and  household  love  ;  it  lets  one  into  the 
secret  of  family  successes,  of  the  rearing  of  chil- 
dren, of  the  making  and  keeping  of  friends,  of  the 
means  of  literary,  social  and  religious  culture, 
the  uses  of  adversity,  and  the  uses  of  prosperity, 
so  sweetly  and  genially,  that,  as  one  closes  chapter 
after  chapter,  and  sees  the  life  widening  out,  till  it 
is  filling  Europe  with  its  blessings,  one  says,  surely 
of  all  the  great,  glad  gifts  which  God  has  made  to 
men,  nothing  is  comparable  with  such  a  mother's 
life,  word,  spirit,  example. 

The  Baroness  Bunsen  was  the  daughter  of  a 
plain  and  untitled  English  gentleman ;  her  grand- 
mother having  been,  however,  a  maid  of  honor  in 
the  court  of  George  the  Third.  She  was  reared  in 
the  most  careful  manner,  and  went  to  Rome  to 
perfect  her  education.  She  was  an  accomplished 
linguist,  and  the  French,  Italian  and  German 
languages  came  to  be  on  her  lips  not  less  fluent 
than  her  mother  tongue.  She  was  so  accomplished 
in  the  arts  of  drawing  and  painting,  as  to  call  out 
the  praises  of  Thorwaldsen,  then  living  in  Rome  at 
the  hight  of  his  great  fame.  She  was  an  enthu- 
siast in  the  study  of  the  antiquities  of  Rome,  and 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Bunsen,  then  a  young 
subordinate  in  the  Prussian  legation,  but  a  most 
competent  guide  to  all  that  remains  of  the  glories 
of  ancient  Rome.  The  six  months'  acquaintance 


Baroness  Bunsen.  ill 

resulted  in  marriage  in  1817;  to  the  eye  of  the 
world  the  union  of  two  young  and  noble  natures, 
full  of  aspirations  after  the  best  and  highest  cul- 
ture, as  well  as  after  all  that  is  good. 

It  was  the  marriage  of  a  Secretary  of  Legation 
to  a  young  English  girl  of  good  but  not  eminent 
family ;  that  was  all.  When  one  remembers  that 
the  cousin  of  that  young  bride  is,  at  this  very 
moment,  the  M.  Waddington  who  is  the  French 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  next  to  the  Presi- 
dent the  highest  official  in  France ;  when  one  turns 
to  the  close  of  the  volume  and  reads  the  letter 
which  the  Emperor  of  Germany  wrote  her  with  his 
own  hand ;  when  one  finds  her  subsequent  intimate 
relation  to  Q'  'een  Victoria,  and  to  her  family,  and 
to  all  that  is  socially  and  intellectually  great  in 
Germany,  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  book  during 
the  last  two  thirds  of  it,  in  the  very  highest  social 
places  of  the  world ;  not  simply  identification  with 
people  nobly  born,  but  with  the  noblest  of  the 
noble  ;  the  visits  of  kings  and  princes,  and  the  first 
scholars  of  the  world  at  her  house,  no  more  to  her 
than  the  calls  of  common  men  and  women  are  to 
us  —  one  is  overwhelmed  with  the  change. 

Twelve  children  were  born  to  the  Bunsens  ;  two 
died  in  their  infancy,  ten  came  to  manhood  and 
womanhood,  and  nearly  all  married,  were  blessed 
with  many  children,  and  are  now  living  in  England 
and  Germany,  in  the  same  exalted  social  position 
to  which  they  were  born.  And  out  of  that  large 


112  Worth  Keeping. 

family,  not  one  ever  caused  one  moment's  shame 
or  grief  to  the  parents.  Here  is  this  woman,  the 
daily  companion  of  princes  ;  her  husband,  the  larger 
part  of  his  life,  the  Prussian  minister  to  Italy  and 
to  England,  she  overwhelmed  with  society  duties, 
their  palace  overrun  with  guests,  and  yet  she  draw- 
ing from  her  own  revered  mother  the  lessons  which 
she  was  giving  to  her  ten  children,  and  so  rearing 
them  that  we  fail  to  find  in  one  of  them  the  faint- 
est tendencies  to  go  astray.  And  yet  with  it  all, 
Madame  Bunsen  remains  just  a  woman;  just  what 
Wordsworth  described  his  own  wife  to  be. 

If  one  were  to  compare  the  living  of  Baron  Bun- 
sen  with  that  of  his  wife,  he  would  discover  that 
there  is  no  power  which  is  working  upon  the  world 
to  transform  it  like  that  of  sanctified  womanliness. 
There  was  Bunsen,  a  great  scholar,  a  great  states- 
man, a  great  Christian,  not  ten  men  in  the  world 
where  he  lived  who  stood  before  him  in  any  one  of 
these  roles  ;  there  was  his  wife,  who  shared  all  his 
studies,  all  his  honors,  all  his  friendships,  and  yet  in 
her  there  is  a  certain  strong,  persuasive,  pure,  del- 
icate somewhat,  which  makes  her  letters  peculiar, 
and  gives  them  a  certain  cleansing  power,  so  that 
after  you  have  read  them  you  feel  as  if  you  had 
come  out  of  a  bath. 

The  way  in  which  her  heart  follows  her  children 
wherever  they  go,  the  way  in  which  she  seeks  to 
stand  between  them  and  all  peril,  and  all  wrong, 
the  way  in  which  she  seeks  to  carry  over  her 


Baroness  Buns  en.  113 

experience  to  them,  and  to  cover  them  with  her 
love  and  care,  is  a  delightful  suggestion  of  Him  of 
whom  we  read  that,  having  loved  His  own,  He  loved 
them  to  the  end.  Womanliness  is  a  great  thing  —  a 
wonderful  thing ;  even  perverted  womanliness  is  an 
amazing  thing,  as  I  was  thinking  a  few  weeks  ago 
while  reading  Mary  Wolstonecroft's  letters,  so  sad, 
so  tragic,  wrung  out  of  a  sore,  baffled  and  weary 
life;  but  sanctified  womanliness,  that  where  the 
love,  purity,  duty,  devotion  of  a  noble  woman  are 
ennobled  by  what  is  the  gift  of  Jesus  Christ,  this 
is  the  highest  and  the  best  thing  on  earth.  It  is 
the  most  radiant  force  in  the  world.  It  is  that 
which  brings  Jesus  the  nearest  to  men. 


114  Worth  Keeping. 


WILL  SMITH'S  ADVENTURE. 


|ILL  Smith  was  as  smart  a  boy  as  there  was 
in  all  Sweetwater.  He  was  the  son  of  one 
of  the  Gettysburg  heroes,  and  his  mother 
—  a  very  hard-working  woman  —  spared  no  pains 
to  make  her  little  boy  industrious  and  honest,  a 
worthy  son  of  a  worthy  father.  Among  the  virtues 
which  she  impressed  upon  his  mind  was  that  of 
self-reliance ;  to  be  manly,  independent  and  deci- 
sive in  action.  His  habits  of  industry  were  very 
marked.  He  was  always  ready  to  do  anything  by 
which  he  could  earn  something  to  aid  his  mother, 
and  the  early  passengers  for  the  cars  always  found 
him  ready  to  carry  their  trunks  to  the  depot  in  the 
town.  He  was  an  excellent  hand  with  a  snow- 
shovel,  also,  and  the  snow  seemed  to  favor  him, 
during  the  season  of  it,  for  it  would  come  down  in 
•the  night,  and  Will  would  be  out  by  daylight  with 
his  shovel  pitching  into  the  drifts  before  the  neigh- 
bors' houses,  who  would  pay  him  handsomely  for 
his  work.  There  was  considerable  competition  in 
the  snow-shoveling  business,  but  he  would  be  up 
so  early  that  he  led  all  the  rest.  He  was  very 
faithful  and  exact  in  doing  errands,  and  won  the 


"And  the  early  passengers  for  the  cars  always  found  him   ready  to 
carry  their  trunks  to  the  depot."  Page  114. 


Will  SmitJis  Adventure.  115 

reputation  of  being  a  first-class  boy.  Indeed,  he 
was  "  first-class  "  in  school  and  everywhere,  and 
Mrs.  Smith  was  proud  of  her  son. 

And  yet,  he  was  only  a  "  human  boy  "  —  not  so 
good  as  to  run  the  risk  of  his  dying  very  soon  on 
that  account,  as  some  people  think  good  boys  are 
liable  to.  He  played  as  heartily  as  the  best ; 
enjoyed  vacations,  and  wished  that  they  might 
come  often ;  loved  mischief  as  well  as  any  other 
boy,  if  there  were  no  malice  in  it;  could  jump,  run, 
climb,  swim,  skate,  coast,  play  base  ball,  cricket, 
kick  foot-ball,  and  do  anything  that  a  boy  of  his 
size  and  age  could  do.  He  would  never  quarrel, 
and,  somehow  or  other,  occasions  for  quarreling 
were  very  rare  where  he  was.  If,  at  any  time, 
differences  occurred,  as  they  will  in  the  dealings  of 
boys  or  men,  Will,  though  but  twelve  years  old, 
had  an  influence  that  was  felt  among  his  associates, 
and  he  would  soon  make  all  straight  and  smooth 
again.  There  was  a  time,  however,  when  he  got 
drawn  into  a  quarrel  with  Ted  Halsey,  by  a  man 
who  should  have  been  in  better  business,  and  they 
came  to  blows ;  but  Ted  whipped  him.  Will  said 
he  had  rather  it  would  be  so,  and  Ted  and  he  were 
fast  friends  thereafter.  It  is  a  very  mean  thing  for 
men  or  big  boys  to  set  little  boys  to  fighting,  who 
ought  to  be  always  loving  and  kind  towards  each 
other ;  though  oftentimes  they  are  not,  but  have 
their  "  spats,"  and  act  very  much  as  men  do  when 
they  are  angry.  It  is  the  bad  part  of  manhood  in 
the  bud. 


1 1 6  Worth  Keeping. 

But  the  story  I  have  to  tell  has  little  in  it  to 
which  any  of  the  qualities  I  have  named  as  Will's 
will  apply.  It  rather  reveals  a  new  quality  which 
I  have  not  named  —  judgment. 

He  had  been  out  one  morning  early,  on  some 
errand,  and  was  going  home  to  his  breakfast,  when 
a  lady  opened  the  front  door  of  her  house  hur- 
riedly, and  looked  anxiously  down  the  street.  Will, 
attracted  by  her  manner,  turned  round  and  looked 
in  the  same  direction. 

"  Little  boy,"  said  she,  "  did  you  meet  a  gentle- 
man walking  towards  the  depot,  wearing  a  light 
coat  and  carrying  a  heavy  cane  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  Will ;  "  a  big  man,  walk- 
ing very  fast." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  overtake  him  ?  " 

"  I'll  try." 

"  Well,  then,  take  this  pocket-book  that  he  has 
left  behind  him,  and  which  is  very  important  to 
him,  and  if  you  can  overtake  him  and  give  it 
to  him,  I  will  give  you  half  a  dollar  on  your 
return." 

Will  took  the  pocket-book,  and  started  upon  the 
run  for  the  depot.  The  moment  he  was  gone, 
the  lady  remembered  that  she  had  not  asked  his 
name  nor  residence.  The  book,  containing  money 
and  notes,  was  very  valuable,  and  she  had  entrusted 
it  to  an  entire  stranger.  She  was  in  an  alarming 
state  of  anxiety  about  it,  and  waited  impatiently 
for  the  return  of  the  boy.  After  waiting  an  hour 


Will  Smith's  Adventure.  117 

or  two,  and  finding  that  he  did  not  come,  she  con- 
cluded that  he  had  made  off  with  the  money,  and 
went  to  the  chief  of  police  to  report  her  loss.  She 
described  the  boy  as  well  as  she  could,  and  the 
officers  were  sent  out  in  search  of  him. 

Will  started  from  the  lady's  door  in  the  hurry  I 
have  described,  and  arrived  at  the  depot  just  as  the 
train  was  moving.  He  made  up  his  mind  in  an 
instant.  He  was  on  the  side  of  the  train  opposite 
to  the  depot,  by  which  a  platform  ran,  and,  seizing 
the  rail,  he  swung  himself  on  and  went  with  the 
car,  no  one  at  the  depot  having  seen  him. 

"  Hallo,  little  fellow  !  "  said  the  brakeman ;  "you 
came  near  getting  left." 

"  That's  so,"  replied  Willie,  laughing. 

He  went  into  the  car,  which  was  about  the  first 
one,  and  then  went  through  the  train  until  he 
reached  the  very  last  one  before  he  saw  the  gentle- 
man of  whom  he  was  in  search.  As  he  stood  by 
the  seat  in  which  the  person  sat,  he  heard  him 
lamenting  to  the  gentleman  with  him  the  acci- 
dental leaving  of  his  pocket-book  behind  him,  at 
the  house  of  his  sister  in  Sweetwater,  and  the 
absence  of  papers  needed  by  him  at  the  place 
where  he  was  going,  which  were  in  that  book.  The 
court  was  to  be  in  session  that  day,  and  a  cause  in 
which  he  was  interested  would  have  to  be  delayed 
in  consequence. 

"  I  would  give,"  said  he,  "  a  hundred  dollars  to 
have  that  book." 


Il8  Worth  Keeping. 

"  Can't  you  telegraph  back  at  the  next  station, 
and  have  it  sent  on  ? "  asked  the  other  gentleman. 

"  No,  the  next  train  does  not  leave  till  two,  and 
it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  me  in  season. 
Bad !  All  my  journey  of  sixty  miles  is  for  nothing, 
besides  the  annoyance  of  the  delay." 

Will  gently  touched  the  gentleman's  arm,  and 
he,  probably  thinking  it  was  some  pedlar  boy, 
rudely  threw  the  little  hand  off,  when,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  Will  held  the  pocket-book 
before  the  eyes  of  its  owner.  Much  surprised,  he 
gazed  at  it  a  moment  as  if  in  doubt  as  to  what  it 
was,  then  eagerly  grasped  it  and  looked  round  at 
the  little  fellow  who  had  presented  it.  Will  had  a 
sly  humor,  and  his  eye  sparkled  at  the  fun  of  the 
thing. 

"  Where  did  you  find  this  ? "  the  gentleman  said. 

"  Didn't  find  it,  sir,"  said  Will.  "  A  lady  gave  it 
to  me  and  told  me  to  run  and  give  it  to  you  at  the 
cars." 

"  And  why  didn't  you  give  it  to  me  at  the  cars  ? " 

"  Because  the  cars  had  already  started  when  I 
got  there,  sir,  and  as  the  lady  told  me  that  it  was 
important  you  should  have  it,  I  jumped  on  to  over- 
take you." 

The  gentleman  opened  the  pocket-book,  as  if  to 
satisfy  himself  that  the  contents  were  all  right, 
and  then  asked  : 

"  Were  you  not  going  on  with  the  train  ? " 

"  No,  sir ;  my  only  business  was  to  find  you." 


Will  Smiths  Adventure.  119 

"  And  how  do  you  expect  to  get  back  ? " 

"  Never  thought  of  that,  sir." 

"  Well,  we  must  take  care  of  you  at  Centerport, 
and  as  I  shall  return  to-morrow,  I  will  take  you 
with  me." 

Then  the  gentleman  turned  to  his  companion 
and  left  little  Will  to  his  reflections.  He  had, 
indeed,  thought  of  nothing  but  restoring  the 
pocket-book,  and  now  the  reflection  came  to  him 
that  his  mother  would  be  very  anxious  regarding 
his  absence ;  but  he  argued  to  himself  that  the 
time  would  be  very  short  before  he  would  see  her 
again ;  and  so,  with  a  boyish  love  of  adventure 
inspiring  him,  and  the  consciousness  of  having 
performed  a  good  act,  he  sat  still  and  let  matters 
take  their  own  course.  By  and  by  the  gentleman 
questioned  him  regarding  his  circumstances,  and 
his  questions  were  answered  in  such  a  straight- 
forward, manly  way,  that  both  gentlemen  were 
delighted  with  him.  His  fare  was  paid  to  the  con- 
ductor, and  when  the  lunch-boy  came  in  Will  well 
made  up  for  his  lost  breakfast. 

When  the  train  reached  Centerport,  which  is  a 
large  city,  a  carriage  was  taken  for  the  best  hotel 
in  the  place,  and  Will  was  at  once  introduced  to 
the  first  society.  He  felt  very  strangely,  but 
improved  his  time  in  seeing  the  many  new  things 
that  presented  themselves  ;  yet  the  thought  of  his 
mother  would  disturb  him,  and  he  was  not  sorry, 
the  next  morning,  to  find  himself  on  the  road  to 


I2O  Worth  Keeping. 

Sweetwater.  Every  boy  who  has  been  away  from 
home,  for  ever  so  little  while,  can  tell  how  pleasant 
it  is  to  come  back  to  it.  Every  object  is  seen  with 
a  new  interest,  and  even  trees  and  bushes  and 
rocks  seem  like  dear  friends.  So  Will  was  very 
happy  when  he  saw  the  steeples  of  Sweetwater 
over  the  trees,  and  thought  how  glad  his  mother 
would  be  to  welcome  him  back. 

A  terrible  sensation  was  caused  in  Sweetwater 
by  Will's  mysterious  absence.  His  mother  was 
about  frantic,  and  had  set  all  her  friends  to  search 
for  the  missing  boy,  who  met,  very  soon,  the  police 
in  search  for  him,  on  complaint  of  stealing  the 
pocket-book.  This  nearly  broke  her  heart.  It  was 
the  saddest  news  she  had  heard  since  the  day  suc- 
ceeding the  battle  in  which  his  father  fell ;  shame 
for  his  dishonesty  being  added  to  pain  at  his  loss, 
and  she  felt  as  if  she  could  not  be  comforted. 

As  Will  stepped  upon  the  platform,  in  advance 
of  his  friend  the  owner  of  the  pocket-book,  who 
stopped  a  moment  to  bid  the  other  gentleman 
good-by,  a  man  with  a  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons 
and  a  cap  marked  with  a  brass  figure,  took  Will  by 
the  arm : 

"  Ah !  my  young  friend,"  said  he,  "  we've  been 
looking  for  you.  Didn't  expect  you  back  quite  so 
soon,  though." 

"  What  have  I  done  ? "  asked  Will,  as  white  as 
paper. 

"  Done !  why  run  away  with  a  pocket-book,  to  be 
sure." 


Will  SmitJis  Adventure,  121 

Will  was  too  full  of  amazement  to  make  a  reply, 
and  the  people  standing  round,  seeing  his  scared 
look,  set  it  down  as  direct  evidence  of  guilt.  The 
gentleman  here  stepped  from  the  car  and  sternly 
demanded  of  the  officer  what  he  was  troubling 
that  boy  for  ? 

"'Rested  him  for  robbery,"  the  man  replied; 
"  stole  a  pocket-book.  Come  along,"  to  Will. 

"  But  the  pocket-book  was  mine,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman, "and  he  placed  it  in  my  hands." 

"Can't  help  it,"  returned  the  officer;  "law  is 
law,  and  a  writ  is  a  writ.  He  must  go  before  the 
Marshal." 

"  Well,  I  will  go  with  him." 

Getting  into  the  carriage  they  drove  to  the  City 
Marshal's  office,  and  there  Mr.  Grovenor,  the  owner 
of  the  book,  stated  the  facts  in  the  case,  and 
showed  the  pocket-book  ;  but  Will's  discharge  was 
not  given  until  Mrs.  Christie,  the  complainant,  had 
been  sent  for  to  release  the  complaint.  She  came, 
and  the  matter  was  soon  adjusted.  She  was  a 
nervous  woman,  had  imagined  the  worst,  and  was 
very  sorry  that  she  had  employed  the  police.  They 
both  drove  with  Will  to  his  mother's  house,  and 
the  change  in  her  feelings  from  sorrow  to  joy  was 
almost  too  much  to  bear.  Her  boy  was  safe  and 
innocent,  for  which  she  devoutly  thanked  God, 
and  she  listened  well  pleased  to  the  praise  which 
Mr.  Grovenor  bestowed  upon  him. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  "  I  will  do  what  I  promised. 


122  Worth  Keeping. 

I  said  I  would  give  a  hundred  dollars  for  the  pos- 
session of  that  book,  and  here  it  is,"  placing  a  one 
hundred  dollar  greenback  in  Will's  hand. 

The  boy  did  not  wish  to  take  it,  but  his  new 
friend  said  he  must  do  so,  as  the  service  he  had 
done  was  worth  much  more  than  that  to  him.  And 
this  was  not  all.  Mrs.  Christie  became  his  warm 
friend,  and  the  presents  that  he  received  were  many 
and  valuable. 

Mr.  Grovenor  also  told  him  that  when  he  was  a 
little  older  he  would  give  him  a  business  direction, 
which  he  has  since  done,  and  Will  promises  to 
become  prominent  as  a  business  man. 


Be  Not  a  Jack-at-all-Trades.  123 


BE  NOT  A  JACK-AT-ALL-TRADES. 


[HE  gospel  of  thoroughness !  Has  it  not 
been  preached  in  our  country  from  the 
days  of  poor  Richard  down  to  the  days  of 
poor  Horace?  But  what  work  the  Yankee  nation 
makes  in  its  practice !  What  flimsy  railway  bridges  ; 
what  frontier  cookery  ;  what  dabblings  in  science ; 
what  hybrid  styles  in  architecture,  what  mush  — 
and  what  mummy  cerements  —  in  theology;  what 
rickety  chairs  and  bedsteads ;  what  combustible 
cities  ;  what  colossal  ignorance  of  political  econ- 
omy in  Congress  !  Doing  things  thoroughly  is  not 
the  distinguishing  national  characteristic.  But  in 
the  confidence  with  which  he  turns  his  hand  to 
anything,  the  American  has  no  rival. 

There  is  our  old  friend  Offhand.  When  he  was 
fifteen  he  left  the  village  academy,  to  learn  the 
machinist's  trade.  Business  was  brisk,  and  in  a 
year  and  a  half  he  was  taken  into  another  shop  as 
a  journeyman.  At  nineteen  he  married,  and  his 
father-in-law  gave  him  an  interest  in  his  drug-store. 
In  due  time  he  dubbed  himself  "  Dr."  in  the  adver- 
tisements of  his  wonderful  Siberian  cough  cara- 
mels. In  two  or  three  years  he  traded  his  patent 


124  Worth  Keeping. 

medicine  business  for  a  printing  office,  started  a 
newspaper,  and  wrote  editorials  on  the  Eastern 
Question.  When  the  war  broke  out,  he  raised  an 
artillery  company,  on  the  strength  of  his  experi- 
ence as  a  machinist,  and  took  the  field  as  its  cap- 
tain. His  first  campaign  developed  an  unsuspected 
weakness  of  the  lungs,  and  he  obtained  an  assign- 
ment to  duty  as  a  provost-marshal  in  Maryland. 
Failing  in  his  attempt  to  get  a  brevet  appointment 
as  brigadier-general,  he  resigned  his  commission 
and  secured  a  place  as  examiner  in  the  Patent 
Office.  Thrown  out  of  this  berth  after  a  while,  he 
organized  a  company  to  work  a  lead  mine  in  Mis- 
souri, and  became  the  secretary  of  a  cooperative 
life  insurance  association  which  had  a  desk  in  the 
same  office  in  Chicago.  Both  companies  were  so 
soon  done  for,  that  no  one  ever  knew  what  they 
were  begun  for,  and  he  started  a  restaurant  on  the 
next  street. 

Since  then  he  has  had  some  ups  and  more  downs. 
He  has  been  a  market  gardener,  a  school  teacher, 
a  real  estate  agent,  and  a  lay  preacher.  If  he  were 
one  or  two  grades  lower  in  the  social  scale,  he 
would  probably  take  his  turn  as  a  tramp.  He 
occasionally  drops  into  a  current  that  carries  him 
along  to  a  temporary  business  success,  in  spite  of 
his  inexperience  and  incapacity.  But  in  such  a 
case  he  never  knows  enough  to  get  out  of  the 
current  before  it  flows  back  and  takes  his  gains 
along  with  it.  He  usually  does  business  on 


Be  Not  a  Jack-at-all-Trades.  125 

credit.  He  has  to.  If  by  chance  he  comes  into 
possession  of  a  little  capital,  he  is  very  likely  to  fall 
into  the  toils  of  that  sort  of  man  who  said  of  his 
new  and  unskilled  partner  :  "  He  puts  in  the  capi- 
tal and  I  put  in  the  experience.  When  we  dissolve, 
I  shall  have  the  capital  and  he  will  have  the  expe- 
rience." He  is  a  good  fellow,  and  has  no  little 
ability.  The  mistake  of  his  life  has  been  in  sup- 
posing that  a  man  can  earn  a  workman's  wages, 
without  serving  a  workman's  apprenticeship. 

The  conditions  of  life  in  a  new  country,  where 
opportunities  are  abundant,  where  competition 
is  less  close,  where  everything  floats  on  a 
rising  tide  —  conditions  that,  however,  are  slip- 
ping away  from  us  year  by  year  —  greatly  stim- 
ulate this  jack-at-all-trades  tendency.  In  the  Old 
World  they  have  learned  a  better  way.  When 
one  must  spend  seven  years  in  learning  a  trade,  he 
is  apt  to  stick  to  it.  When  fluctuations  in  prices  are 
so  slight  that  there  is  no  temptation  to  commer- 
cial gambling,  and  the  margin  for  profits  is  so  small 
that  every  economy  must  be  skillfully  studied,  the 
novice  or  the  adventurer  stands  a  poor  chance; 
thoroughness  becomes  the  inexorable  condition  of 
success. 

Rev.  Dr.  Taylor,  of  New  York,  in  some  news- 
paper notes  of  one  of  his  trips  across  the  Atlantic, 
has  alluded  incidentally  to  the  experience  of  a 
young  man  who  was  a  member  of  his  former  con- 
gregation in  Liverpool.  He  was  the  son  of  a 


126  Worth  Keeping. 

wealthy  manufacturer,  who  was  engaged  in  making 
the  machinery  for  steamships.  As  a  part  of  his 
preparation  for  becoming  a  member  of  the  firm  and 
a  manager  of  the  business,  he  obtained  an  appoint- 
ment as  sixth  assistant  engineer  on  an  Atlantic 
steamship ;  glad,  for  the  sake  of  becoming  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  the  practical  workings  of  the 
machinery,  to  shut  himself  up  in  the  bilge-water 
smells,  the  grease,  the  foul  air  and  the  cramped 
quarters  of  a  subordinate  in  the  bowels  of  a 
tumbling  steamer — a  life  as  near  like  Jonah's  in 
the  whale's  belly  as  anything  that  could  be  imag- 
ined. It  was  characteristic  of  English  thorough- 
ness. It  sometimes  happens,  but  it  is  not  the  rule, 
that  the  young  American  who  is  born  to  a  fortune, 
and  who  is  heir-apparent  to  the  business  by  which 
it  was  built  up,  ties  himself  down  to  drudgery  in 
just  that  way.  He  feels  the  need  of  being  free  for 
a  hunting  trip  to  Canada,  or  a  sleighing  party  on 
the  avenue,  or  surf-bathing  at  Cape  May,  as  occa- 
sion offers.  When  the  business  falls  to  him,  he 
depends  on  his  foreman  to  run  it ;  and  when  the 
next  generation  comes  on  the  stage,  the  foreman's 
sons  are  the  proprietors,  and  his  boys  are  beating 
about  the  bush  to  get  a  living  the  best  way  they 
can. 

Every  recurrence  of  hard  times  strands  a  multi- 
tude of  men,  who,  simply  because  they  are  not 
masters  of  any  trade  or  profession,  are  as  helpless, 
for  the  time  being,  to  get  a  livelihood,  as  a  turtle 


Be  Not  a  Jack-at-all-Trades.  127 

on  his  back.  Every  reader  will  recall  such  acquaint- 
ances —  men  and  women  for  whom  his  heart  aches 
whenever  he  meets  them  in  these  dull  times.  But 
the  times  never  get  so  hard  that  the  best  salesman 
in  the  store,  the  best  mechanic  in  the  shop,  the 
best  lawyer  in  the  county,  the  best  printer  in 
the  office,  the  best  doctor  in  the  town,  the  best 
pastor  in  the  conference,  finds  himself  for  any 
length  of  time  thrown  out  of  work.  The  best  man, 
though,  is  never  the  man  who  has  picked  up  his 
trade — who  is  half  carpenter  and  half  farmer, 
sometimes  preacher  and  sometimes  music  teacher, 
to-day  grocer's  clerk  and  to-morrow  car-driver. 
He  is  not  a  jack-at-all-trades. 

There  are  many  things  to  be  learned  from  these 
hard  times.  But  there  certainly  is  a  special 
message  in  them  for  parents  and  young  people. 
They  say  to  every  young  man,  especially  :  Choose 
some  useful  way  of  earning  your  own  living; 
master  it,  and  stick  to  it.  Then  you  will  be  pre- 
pared to  escape  the  worst  evils  of  hard  times,  and 
reap  the  best  fruits  of  good  times. 


128  Worth  Keeping. 


BAD  BOOKS. 


|HE  chief  danger  to  young  readers  lies  in 
their  tendency  to  choose  their  reading 
altogether  from  among  works  of  fiction ; 
and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  number  of  bad  books 
read  at  an  age  when  the  mind  is  most  impressible, 
will  always  be  greater  than  the  number  of  good 
ones.  I  use  the  term  bad  books  with  intention, 
although  I  do  not  mean  books  always  positively 
bad  in  moral  teaching.  I  know  most  excellent 
fathers  and  mothers  who  would  be  shocked  to  hear 
that  there  were  any  bad  books  admitted  into  their 
families,  whose  children  have  never  read  a  really 
good  book  in  their  lives.  A  book  is  truly  a  bad 
book,  when  it  is  utterly  worthless ;  when  it  con- 
tains nothing  to  enrich  the  memory  or  feed  the 
mind,  leaving  both  thought  and  memory  poorer 
from  the  draught  on  them ;  which  fatigues  without 
planting  any  seed  there.  Such  books  are  found 
everywhere,  in  public  libraries,  circulating  libra- 
ries, and  Sunday  school  libraries  as  well.  Indeed 
I  have  seen  some  books  from  some  of  the  Sunday 
schools  which  were  hardly  less  questionable  in 
their  teaching  than  in  their  use,  or  misuse,  of 


Bad  Books.  129 

the  English  tongue,  and  which  the  discriminating 
critic  would  throw  away  as  unfit  for  the  place  they 
occupy. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  urge  that  one  should  never 
read  for  amusement.  Often  the  mind  is  tired  with 
study  or  other  mental  strain,  and  needs  rest  and 
recreation  as  the  body  needs  it,  and  sometimes 
finds  it  in  the  pages  of  a  wholesome  story.  The 
chief  anxiety  is,  that  among  young  people  espe- 
cially, and  largely  among  women,  stories  are  the 
almost  universal  reading.  It  is  like  constantly 
feeding  the  stomach  on  sugar  plums,  this  keeping 
the  mind  always  fed  on  fiction.  Mental  dyspepsia 
is  as  certain  in  the  one  case  as  physical  dyspepsia 
in  the  other.  After  a  time  nothing  wholesome 
will  digest,  and  the  mind  loses  all  taste  for  good 
fare.  If  the  muscle  is  not  used,  it  grows  flaccid 
and  flabby  for  want  of  exercise  ;  so  the  mind  which 
is  never  set  to  work  on  anything  that  arouses  and 
stimulates  its  powers,  and  makes  it  firm  and  sub- 
stantial, becomes  nothing  but  an  inert  and  flabby 
mass,  incapable  of  generating  airy  ideas  and  com- 
pletely useless  as  a  thinking-machine. 

It  is  sad  to  reflect  how  all  this  trash,  constantly 
falling  into  the  hands  of  young  people  tends,  by  its 
sensational  character,  to  draw  them  away  Jrom 
better  books,  which  they  would  relish  if  their  tastes 
we're  not  spoiled  by  the  higher-seasoned  fare  which 
is  served  up  daily  and  almost  hourly  from  the 
printing-presses.  When  one  looks  over  the  lists  of 


130  Worth  Keeping. 

cheap  periodicals,  newspapers  and  magazines,  that 
our  boys  and  girls,  and  young  men  and  women, 
devour  in  weekly  and  monthly  issues  ;  when  he 
reads  the  sensational  stories,  illustrated  by  pictures 
that  disgrace  art,  the  healthy  mind  is  sickened 
and  disgusted.  The  printing-press,  instead  of 
appearing  a  blessing  to  the  human  race,  assumes 
the  shape  of  a  monster,  which  spawns  its  brood  of 
hideous  crawling  things  into  the  purest  channels 
of  life,  poisoning  and  infecting  the  very  well- 
springs  of  existence.  When  one  looks  through  the 
columns  of  some  of  these  abortions  of  the  press, 
one  is  inclined  to  believe  that  those  who  write  this 
mass  of  harmful  rubbish  should  be  punished  in  the 
same  manner  as  those  other  wretches  who  are 
caught  putting  poison  into  wells  of  sweet  water, 
or  mixing  arsenic  in  wholesome  bread-stuffs.  Has 
any  one  who  reads  this  article  ever  examined  a 
pile  of  some  of  the  weekly  newspapers  for  boys 
and  girls  published  in  this  country,  or  even  some 
of  those  reprinted  from  English  publications  ? 
Has  he  seen  the  stories  for  boys,  with  their  charac- 
ters of  impossible  Indians,  of  highly-colored  hunt- 
ers and  trappers,  of  boy  heroes,  runaways  from 
home  or  from  school,  engaged  in  all  kinds  of  pre- 
posterous adventures,  the  whole  infected  with  most 
questionable,  sort  of  teaching,  and  all  written  in  a 
slang  almost  incomprehensible  to  ears  unused  to  it  ? 
Week  after  week  and  month  after  month,  these 
same  ingredients  are  put  into  the  same  machine 


Bad  Books.  131 

which  grinds  out  over  and  over  this  jumble  of 
unreality,  false  teaching,  and  bad  English.  And 
all  this  time  there  are  books  gathering  dust  on 
library  shelves,  unread  year  after  year,  that  are 
filled  with  tales  of  thrilling  adventures,  deeds  of 
noble  daring,  records  of  sublime  heroism,  which 
have  the  merit  both  of  being  true,  and  of  being 
written  in  the  speech  that  Shakespeare  spoke,  and 
not  the  mongrel  tongue  current  in  the  alleys  and 
slums  of  our  large  cities. 

There  are  even  worse  books  for  our  girls  and 
young  women  than  the  sort  of  stuff  written  to 
catch  the  fancy  of  our  boys.  These  are  the  trashy 
sentimental  novels,  as  silly  and  as  unlike  reality  as 
the  boys'  stories  of  adventure.  Without  saying 
anything  against  the  morality  of  these  books, 
which  is  often  open  to  severest  criticism,  they 
inculcate  false  ideas  of  human  life,  present  dis- 
torted views  of  character,  and  fill  the  mind  with  a 
sickly  sentimentality,  which  is  a  most  pernicious 
preparation  for  the  duties  of  life  that  awaits  the 
woman.  Is  it  not  the  severest  possible  criticism 
on  the  young  women  of  our  cities,  that  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  such  books  as  those  I  have  indi- 
cated are  those  they  select  for  their  chief  reading  ? 
Such  stories  circulate  from  our  libraries,  rather 
than  the  really  noble  works  of  fact,  fiction  or 
poetry.  The  young  woman  whose  ideas  have  been 
derived  from  such  books  as  these,  enters  upon  life 
as  unprepared  for  its  requirements  as  the  fledgeling 


132  Worth  Keeping. 

who  is  tumbled  from  the  parent  nest  before  it  has 
learned  to  spread  its  wings.  The  bitter  mistakes 
from  which  so  many  suffer  the  consequences,  the 
sad  awaking  to  life's  realities,  might  be  spared 
many  young  souls  if  their  reading  were  carefully 
advised  and  overlooked  by  those  who  have  charge 
of  their  mental  training. 

To  the  neglect  or  indifference  of  fathers  and 
mothers  is  much  of  this  careless  reading  due. 
They  are  often  ignorant  of  the  books  which  are  in 
the  hands  of  their  children ;  they  neither  know  nor 
inquire  what  is  the  chief  staple  of  the  mental  food 
they  are  drawing  from  books  and  newspapers,  out- 
side the  usual  routine  of  the  text-books  used  in 
school.  The  tender  mother  who  makes  the  com- 
fort and  elegance  of  her  daughter's  dress  the 
object  of  weightiest  consideration,  is  often  entirely 
ignorant  of  that  which  shall  clothe  her  daughter's 
mind.  When  parents  shall  show  the  same  care  in 
reviewing  what  their  children  read  that  they  show 
in  the  provision  for  their  stomachs,  or  the  super- 
vision of  their  wardrobes,  the  whole  nation  will 
reap  the  fruits  of  such  care.  For  a  race  of  cul- 
tured and  thoughtful  men  and  women  will  arise, 
whose  minds,  generously  nurtured  by  the  best 
books,  will  direct  a  noble  republic,  founded  on  the 
intelligence  of  its  children. 


The  Other  Side  of  the  Moon.  133 


THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  MOON. 


SHE  turns  her  great  grave  eyes  toward  mine, 

While  I  stroke  her  soft  hair's  gold ; 
We  watch  the  moon  through  the  window  shine  ; 

She  is  only  six  years  old. 
"  Is  it  true,"  she  asks,  with  her  guileless  mien, 

And  her  voice  in  tender  tune, 
"  That  nobody  ever  yet  has  seen 

The  other  side  of  the  moon  ?  " 


I  smile  at  her  question,  answering  "yes  ; " 

And  then,  by  a  strange  thought  stirred, 
I  murmur,  half  in  forgetfulness 

That  she  listens  to  every  word  : 
"  There  are  treasures  on  earth  so  rich  and  fair 

That  they  cannot  stay  with  us  here, 
And  the  other  side  of  the  moon  is  where 

They  go  when  they  disappear  ! 

"  There  are  hopes  that  the  spirit  hardly  names, 

And  songs  that  it  mutely  sings ; 
There  are  good  resolves,  and  exalted  aims ; 

There  are  longings  for  nobler  things ; 
There  are  sounds  and  visions  that  haunt  our  lot, 

Ere  they  vanish,  or  seem  to  die, 
And  the  other  side  of  the  moon  (why  not  ?) 

Is  the  far  bourn  where  they  fly ! 


134  Worth  Keeping, 

"  We  could  guess  hew  that  realm  were  passing  sweet, 

And  of  strangely  precious  worth, 
If  its  distant  reaches  enshrined  complete 

The  incompleteness  of  earth  ! 
If  there  we  could  find,  like  a  living  dream, 

What  here  we  but  mourn  and  miss, 
Oh,  the  other  side  of  the  moon  must  beam 

With  a  glory  unknown  in  this  ! " 

"  Are  you  talking  of  Heaven?"  she  whispers  now, 

While  she  nestles  against  my  knees. 
And  I  say,  as  I  kiss  her  white,  wide  brow, 

"  You  may  call  it  so,  if  you  please  .  .  . 
For  whatever  that  wondrous  land  may  be, 

Should  we  journey  there,  late  or  soon, 
Perhaps  we  may  look  down  from  Heaven  and  see  — 

The  other  side  of  the  moon ! " 


Criticism  of  Revivals.  135 


CRITICISM  OF  REVIVALS. 


IN  incident  in  the  life  of  Aaron  Burr  illus- 
trates the  need  of  a  balanced  judgment  of 
those  phenomena  which  often  perplex  good 
men  in  revivals  of  religion.  Revivals,  whatever 
else  they  are,  are  profound  agitations  of  human 
passions.  The  depravity  of  man  is  stirred  to 
its  depths,  and  the  wiles  of  Satan  are  tasked 
to  use  it  to  the  worst.  Good  and  evil,  God  and 
Satan,  come  then  into  visible  and  extreme  con- 
flict. It  is  no  marvel  that  in  the  heat  of  the  excite- 
ment, great  truths  should  become  entangled  with 
great  errors.  To  distinguish  wisely  the  Divine,  the 
human,  and  the  Satanic,  in  such  scenes,  is  no  easy 
matter. 

Good  men  have  therefore  been  divided  in  opinion 
respecting  almost  all  the  great  historic  revivals 
which  have  agitated  the  church.  This  has  been 
especially  true  in  our  American  history.  We  have 
but  to  mention  the  names  of  Edwards,  Whitefield, 
Tennent,  Nettleton,  Finney,  for  illustration.  These 
men  were  all  "  withstood  to  the  face "  by  men  as 
good.  Churches  were  warned  against  their  teach- 
ings. Ecclesiastical  authority  was  invoked  against 


136  Worth  Keeping. 

some  of  them.  Religious  inquirers  were  cautioned 
against  their  "  fanaticism." 

This  last  fact  is  the  one  which  the  incident 
referred  to  in  the  life  of  Burr  illustrates.  •  A  revi- 
val of  great  power  occurred  while  he  was  in  Prince- 
ton College.  It  was  in  his  senior  year  —  the  period 
in  which  the  approach  of  the  responsibilities  of 
manhood  has  been  blessed  of  God  to  the  conver- 
sion of  so  many  educated  men.  Burr  acknowl- 
edged his  interest  in  the  movement  which  had 
roused  his  companions.  He  confessed  that  he  felt 
the  weight  of  his  godly  ancestry  upon  his  con- 
science. As  the  son  of  parents  of  illustrious 
piety,  he  was  appealed  to  by  the  friends  of  the 
revival  to  give  his  heart  to  Christ. 

With  what  degree  of  wisdom  he  was  approached 
cannot  now  be  known.  The  revival,  like  others  of 
that  age,  was  doubtless  not  free  from  some  objec- 
tionable features.  The  theology  of  the  age  was 
not  a  well-balanced  theology.  The  usages  of  the 
pulpit  were  not  well-rounded.  Appeals  to  the  fears 
of  men  were  disproportionate  to  the  preaching  of 
the  milder  aspects  of  the  gospel.  It  was  an  age, 
also,  of  revolutionary  awakenings.  The  political 
eloquence  of  those  times  shows  that  profound  pas- 
sions were  stirring  in  the  popular  heart.  They 
were  soon  to  break  out  in  bloodshed.  It  is  not 
unphilosophical  that  religious  awakenings  should 
have  taken  some  coloring  from  the  political  indig- 
nations underneath.  Yet  those  awakenings  may 
have  been  none  the  less  the  work  of  God,  for  that. 


Criticism  of  Revivals.  137 

Then,  as  so  often  before  and  since,  good  men 
stood  committed  to  and  against  the  revival.  Their 
prayers  met  clashing  in  the  upper  air,  like  those 
two  cannon  balls  from  opposing  ranks  which  are 
said  to  have  struck  each  other  in  one  of  the  battles 
of  the  Wilderness  in  our  civil  war.  Especially  did 
the  New  England  and  the  Scotch  theologies  stand 
in  battle  array  on  opposite  sides.  Dr.  Witherspoon, 
then  President  of  Princeton  College,  a  Scotchman 
by  birth,  and  his  countrymen  generally,  were  in 
opposition  to  the  leaders  of  the  movement.  They 
could  see  only  the  human  and  the  Satanic  elements, 
where  other  good  men  could  see  only  the  mighty 
hand  of  God. 

Unfortunately,  it  was  to  the  venerable  president 
that  Burr  went  with  the  inquiries  of  his  quickened 
conscience.  Up  to  that  time  he  had  not  abandoned, 
nor  grossly  dishonored,  his  inherited  beliefs.  He 
revered  the  faith  of  his  illustrious  father,  and  more 
illustrious  grandfather,  the  elder  Edwards.  He 
spoke  with  tears  of  the  piety  of  his  mother.  To 
human  judgment  it  would  appear  that  he,  above  all 
others,  should  have  been  one  of  the  converts  in 
that  revival.  Then,  it  should  seem,  was  the  proba- 
ble turning  point  in  his  life.  It  is  not  improbable 
that  his  salvation  then  hung  suspended  in  a  trem- 
bling balance.  It  was  a  crisis  in  which  his  religious 
adviser  'needed  to  weigh  well  his  every  word,  and 
with  prayer.  It  was  no  time  for  sweeping  judg- 
ments or  theologic  niceties  of  schoolmen. 


138  Worth  Keeping. 

Dr.  Witherspoon  unqualifiedly  condemned  the 
excitement  which,  he  said,  was  then  "  raging  "  in 
the  college.  He  told  Burr  that  it  was  all  "fanati- 
cism," that  it  was  "  wildfire,"  and  that  it  would 
soon  die  out.  Specially  he  taught  his  trusting  pupil, 
that  an  educated  man  should  not  permit  his  mind 
to  be  agitated  by  such  scenes.  We  can  readily 
imagine  the  positive  and  severe  terms  in  which  a 
man  like  Dr.  Witherspoon,  the  lineal  descendant  of 
John  Knox,  and  as  honest  as  he  in  his  life-long  con- 
victions, would  be  likely  to  heap  upon  the  move- 
ment his  denunciations  and  his  scorn. 

Burr's  biographer  tells  the  result  of  the  inter- 
view in  the  few  words  :  "  he  went  away  relieved." 
Relieved  of  what  ?  As  the  event  proved,  he  was 
relieved  of  his  awakened  conscience,  relieved  of  his 
convictions  of  sin,  relieved  of  his  aspirations  after 
a  higher  life,  relieved  of  the  strivings  of  God's 
spirit.  It  is  not  known  that  he  ever  again  was  pro- 
foundly awakened  to  the  worth  and  the  peril  of  his 
soul.  On  that  subject  he  became  a  very  silent 
man.  So  far  as  his  life  discovered  to  observers  the 
secret  workings  of  his  mind,  he  never  again 
approached  so  near  to  Heaven.  Then  began  the 
downward  career,  in  which  he  abandoned  the  faith 
of  his  youth,  alienated  himself  from  the  church  of 
his  fathers,  deliberately  stepped  out  of  the  line  of 
a  godly  inheritance,  and  gave  up  a  spiritual  birth- 
right such  as  few  other  men  ever  had.  In  a  little 
more  than  thirty  years  from  that  time  he  was  a 


Criticism  of  Revivals.  139 

murderer.  Who  can  say  that  the  catastrophe  of 
that  ruined  life  was  not  due,  in  part,  to  those 
sweeping  denunciations  by  Dr.  Witherspoon  of 
that  religious  awakening.  In  that  revival,  what- 
ever else  was  true  of  it,  some  men  of  intelligence 
and  culture  were  converted,  who  became  shining 
lights  in  the  church  and  ornaments  to  her  ministry. 
Who  shall  in  the  last  day  give  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion :  "  Why  was  not  Aaron  Burr  one  of  them  ? " 

Men  need  to  be  very  humble,  and  very  docile, 
when  they  are  called  on  to  pass  judgment  upon  a 
great  quickening  of  the  popular  mind,  which  may 
be  the  work  of  God.  God  moves  sometimes  in 
eccentric  curves.  He  condescends  to  use  eccentric 
instruments.  He  speaks  by  semi-pagan  prophets 
like  Balaam ;  and,  for  the  want  of  a  better  apostle, 
by  Balaam's  ass.  He  is  not  repelled  by  the  vaga- 
ries of  the  minds  he  has  to  deal  with.  He  does 
not  abandon  the  field  of  conflict,  in  offended  dig- 
nity, because  "Satan  comes  also."  Why  should 
we  judge  by  tests  more  fastidious  than  His  ?  There 
is  a  way  of  "  trying  the  spirits  whether  they  be  of 
God,"  which  will  not  commit  us  to  a  wrong,  nor 
put  to  hazard  a  right.  It  is  a  way  thronged  by 
prayers,  and  trodden  by  docile  inquirers,  who  are 
ever  saying  to  themselves  :  "  Who  hath  directed 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord ;  or,  being  His  counselor 
hath  taught  Him  ? " 


140  Wort /i  Keeping. 


ZOOLOGICAL  GARDENS  AT  NINEVEH 
AND  BABYLON. 


[JHESE  cities  were  built  on  a  magnificent 
scale,  and  were  adorned  with  parks,  gar- 
dens, artificial  lakes  and  fountains,  to  an 
extent  far  beyond  any  ordinary  conception.  We 
learn,  from  the  inscriptions  that  have  been  recov- 
ered from  the  sites  of  those  cities,  many  facts  with 
regard  to  the  skill  displayed  in  ornamenting  their 
public  grounds,  and  the  methods  employed  for 
making  the  suburbs  of  their  large  towns  attractive 
and  beautiful.  By  royal  command  the  streets  must 
be  of  a  certain  width,  and  the  houses  must  be  at  a 
specified  distance  from  the  street.  One  avenue  of 
unusual  width  and  beauty  was  called  "  King  Street." 
Public  squares  in  a  city  are  often  mentioned,  and 
sometimes  the  great  gate  of  the  city  opened  into  a 
large  and  beautiful  park.  Sometimes  these  parks 
bordered  on  the  river,  along  which  ran  paved  walks, 
overhung  by  trees,  and  provided  at  intervals  with 
seats  for  the  accommodation  of  the  public,  which 
were  generally  protected  by  awnings.  In  that  hot 
climate  such  awnings  would  be  needed,  even  where 
the  walks  and  seats  were  shaded  by  trees.  The 


Zoological  Gardens  at  Nineveh.  141 

banks  of  the  river  were  farther  ornamented  in  such 
a  way  as  to  make  them  delightful  places  for  prom- 
enades. Some  of  these  walks  and  avenues  were 
lined  with  figures  of  lions,  and  bulls,  and  other 
animals,  and  here  and  there  were  shrines  of  some 
gods  and  goddesses,  all  of  which  were  arranged 
and  kept  in  repair  by  royal  command. 

Special  care  was  also  bestowed  upon  their  public 
gardens.  Sometimes  these  were  of  such  extent 
that  they  could  be  called  plantations,  where  gar- 
dens, lakes,  fruit-trees,  orchards  and  forests  were 
combined  in  one  royal  park.  The  work  of  planting 
trees  in  such  places  is  often  mentioned,  both  shade 
and  fruit-trees  ;  also  choice  plants  and  vines ;  and, 
in  fact,  trees,  shrubs  and  plants  from  distant 
countries  were  brought  at  the  public  expense  and 
planted  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris  and  the 
Euphrates,  and  cultivated  by  skilled  laborers  ;  and 
over  such  gardens  was  appointed  a  special  overseer, 
as  much  as  there  was  over  the  public  treasury.  A 
special  feature  connected  with  such  gardens  were 
the  artificial  lakes,  the  fountains,  and  the  flowing 
streams.  Such  luxuries  existed  and  are  frequently 
mentioned ;  although  they  must  have  been  pro- 
vided at  great  expense.  Where  the  fountains  are 
referred  to  we  sometimes  meet  with  the  phrase : 
"Jets  of  water  glistening  in  the  sun."  In  these 
ponds  or  lakes  were  kept  many  kinds  of  fish  and 
birds. 

This  leads  me  to  speak  of  the  menagerie  parkst 


142  Worth  Keeping. 

with  which  many  of  the  large  cities  were  fur- 
nished. These,  also,  were  maintained  at  the  public 
expense.  In  connection  with  the  public  grounds 
already  mentioned,  or  sometimes  separate  from 
them,  were  large  zoological  gardens,  which,  although 
they  existed  ten  and  eleven  centuries  before  Christ, 
were,  nevertheless,  equal  to  some  of  the  finest  that 
are  to  be  seen  in  our  day.  Here  were  collected 
animals  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  Whenever  a 
king  made  a  campaign  to  some  remote  country,  he 
brought  back  with  him  a  supply  of  animals  for  his 
menagerie.  Conquered  kings  would  frequently  send 
such  animals  as  a  free-will  offering.  These  animals 
and  birds  were  arranged  in  suitable  apartments  or 
cells,  and  over  each  was  written  the  name  and 
country  to  which  the  particular  animal  belonged. 
It  is  a  curious  fact  that  in  a  few  cases  they  wrote 
over  the  cell :  "  The  name  of  this  animal  is  not 
known."  In  these  collections  rare,  curious  and 
beautiful  animals,  birds  and  fish  were  to  be 
found.  They  speak  of  collecting  these  animals 
from  "mountain  and  plain,  from  river  and  sea,  from 
lands  and  waters  at  the  ends  of  the  world."  We 
know  that  fish  were  brought  from  the  Mediterra- 
nean, and  animals  from  Armenia,  Arabia  and 
Egypt. 

Large  numbers  of  these  wild  beasts,  such  as 
bulls,  buffaloes,  tigers  and  lions,  were  kept  apart 
from  the  others  for  the  purposes  of  the  chase ;  for 
the  kings  from  first  to  last  were  passionately  fond 


Zoological  Gardens  at  Nineveh.  143 

of  hunting.  As  many  as  fifty  lions  were  brought 
at  a  time  and  confined  in  these  pens  or  "  dens," 
and  used  for  the  purpose  just  named.  Of  course 
these  animals  must  be  fed,  and  state  criminals  like 
Daniel  could  thus  be  turned  to  good  account.  At 
the  same  time,  being  destroyed  in  this  manner,  as 
Daniel's  persecutors  were,  was  a  most  terrible  pun- 
ishment. 

Every  child  knows  that  Daniel  was  cast  into  the 
den  of  lions ;  but  few,  perhaps,  whether  children 
or  adults,  have  ever  had  it  explained  to  them  what 
the  lions  were  there  for.  Some,  also,  have  .inno- 
cently supposed  that  Daniel  was  taken  to  the 
mountains,  or  to  a  great  distance,  where  a  lion's 
den  existed,  and  there  cast  in  among  the  wild 
beasts  as  described  in  the  Bible.  The  "  den,"  how- 
ever, was  near  at  hand,  either  within  the  city  limits 
or  in  the  suburbs.  It  should  be  remembered, 
further,  that  there  were  not  three  or  four  or  half  a 
dozen  lions,  merely,  in  this  den,  but  scores,  and 
probably  hundreds,  of  them,  which  would  make  the 
thought  of  being  cast  into  such  a  place  all  the  more 
terrible,  and  enhance  the  greatness  of  the  miracle  of 
his  preservation.  The  enclosures  were  surrounded 
by  high  walls,  and  the  entrances  were  artificial,  and 
must  not  be  thought  of  as  a  natural  hole  in  a  ledge 
of  rocks. 


144  Worth  Keeping 


WHO  WAS  MRS.  BEARDSLEY'S 
NEIGHBOR? 


[HEN  Mrs.  Beardsley  went  to  Dalton  to 
live,  she  knew  very  few  people.  She  had 
lived  in  a  city  all  her  life,  been  educated 
well,  and  came  of  a  cultivated  and  rather  proud 
family ;  but  she  was  not  proud  in  their  fashion. 
She  had  always  earned  her  own  living  in  one  way 
or  another,  chiefly  by  writing  for  magazines  and 
newspapers.  Whatever  the  outside  world  may 
think,  this  is  not  a  lucrative  business,  and  our 
friend  had  other  people  to  help  on  in  life,  so  she 
had  laid  up  nothing  ;  and  after  a  while  she  married 
a  poor  man  and  came  to  Dalton,  a  flourishing 
country  town,  to  live.  They  went  to  housekeeping 
in  an  old  house,  small  and  inconvenient,  but  of 
pleasant  outlook,  and,  once  settled,  began  to  look 
about  them.  "  Oh,  Fred  !  I  do  hope  I  shall  have 
nice  neighbors,"  said  the  little  woman  as  they  sat  at 
breakfast  one  day. 

"  I  don't  know,  Tina,  how  you'll  like  them ;  of 
course  they'll  like  you." 

"  That's  very  proper  of  you  to  say,  sir,"  laughed 
Mrs.  Beardsley,  "  but  I'm  more  apt  to  like  people 
than  they  are  to  like  me." 


Who  Was  Mrs.  Beardsleys  Neighbor?     145 

This  was  quite  true.  Justina  Beardsley  was 
very  honest,  frank,  unconventional  and  acute  ;  she 
spoke  her  mind  too  freely  to  be  always  a  comforta- 
ble friend.  Human  nature  loves  flattery,  and  she 
never  flattered  ;  however,  our  business  is  with  her 
neighbors. 

Up  the  street  lived  the  Dean  family.  Mrs.  Dean 
was  a  handsome,  cool,  calm  sort  of  woman,  with 
three  daughters,  all  under  fourteen.  Her  husband 
kept  a  country  store  and  had  made  some  money ; 
her  house  was  very  fine  with  shining  furniture, 
Brussels  carpets,  and  always  strictly  curtained, 
screened,  and  blinded  from  sun  and  air.  Mrs. 
Dean  was  a  very  good  woman  ;  she  never  failed  to 
attend  every  meeting  there  was,  and  she  always 
went  to  church,  rain  or  shine,  and  took  her  chil- 
dren to  Sunday  school  with  the  same  persistence. 
She  was  a  woman  who  did  her  duty  in  these 
respects  earnestly  and  conscientiously,  and  never 
could  understand  why  every  one  else  was  not 
equally  faithful. 

Now  her  new  neighbor  was  not  a  strong  woman, 
and  her  work  was  hard.  It  frequently  happened 
to  her  to  have  a  dreadful  neuralgic  headache  on 
Sunday,  and  though  she  was  accustomed  in  her 
youth  to  go  to  church  as  punctiliously  as  the  min- 
ister himself,  and  had  really  overworked  herself  in 
the  city  mission  Sunday  schools,  she  frequently 
now  spent  the  day  of  rest  on  her  sofa,  with  throb- 
bing pangs  in  her  head,  and  a  back  aching  in  every 


146  Worth  Keeping. 

fiber.  Nor  did  she  send  Tommy,  her  little  five  year 
old  boy,  to  Sunday  school ;  for  she  preferred  to 
teach  him  at  home. 

"  Have  you  been  to  see  Beardsley's  wife,  my 
dear  ? "  said  Mr.  Dean  one  morning,  about  three 
weeks  after  the  new  neighbors  made  their  appear- 
ance. 

"  No,  not  yet.  I  thought  I  should  not  hurry.  I 
do  not  think  she  is  a  very  good  person  to  be  inti- 
mate with.  She  does  not  send  her  boy  to  Sabbath 
school,  and  hardly  ever  goes  to  church.  I  should 
not  wish  to  encourage  such  a  person  to  visit  us 
freely." 

Mr.  Dean  said  no  more.  His  wife's  chin  was 
square,  and  her  lips  thin ;  he  really  respected  her 
rather  severe  goodness.  She  did  call  on  the  new 
comer ;  was  a  little  horrified  to  find  what  common 
furniture  she  had,  and  how  the  sun  streamed  in  on 
the  old  three-ply  carpet ;  and  she  went  away  leav- 
ing behind  her  a  chill  such  as  follows  an  iceberg. 
Mrs.  Beardsley  knew  she  was  disapproved  of,  and 
why,  for  she  was  quick  of  discernment ;  and  know- 
ing inwardly  that  she  really  did  try  and  wish  above 
all  things  to  be  a  Christian  woman,  she  felt  sad  and 
sorry  that  her  light  did  not  shine  better.  Then  it 
occurred  to  her  that,  after  all,  God  knew  about 
it,  and  knew  she  did  like  to  go  to  church,  and  did 
not  like  to  be  kept  at  home  with  neuralgia  and 
exhaustion,  so  she  left  this  new  trouble  to  Him. 
Down  the  street  lived  Mrs.  Roberts,  a  well-to-do 
mechanic's  wife. 


Who  Was  Mrs.  Beardsleys  Neighbor?     147 

"  I  see  Beardsley's  folks  have  moved  in,"  was  her 
husband's  comment. 

"  Yes,  they  have ;  but  I  shan't  trouble  them  with 
my  company.  She's  a  city  woman,  and  writes  for 
the  papers  besides.  She  won't  want  to  see  common 
folks  like  me.  Mrs.  Dean  will  call  on  her,  I  pre- 
sume to  say,  and  the  rich  folks  up  town  ;  but  I 
know  enough  not  to  go  where  I  ain't  wanted,  and, 
moreover,  I  never  did  like  stuck-up  folks." 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  you're  just  as  good  as 
she  is,  Mariar ;  and  if  you  come  to  the  money  p'int 
on't,  I  could  buy  an'  sell  Fred  Beardsley  over  and 
ag'in." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  could ;  but  she's  got  her  own 
click,  and  I  shan't  trouble  her.  I  believe  in  lettin' 
folks  alone,  if  they  feel  too  smart  for  your  kind.  I 
never  did  push  in  where  I  wa'n't  wanted,  and  I  ain't 
going  to  begin  now." 

So  Mrs.  Roberts  stayed  away,  strenuously  held 
her  parasol  to  the  east  if  her  new  neighbor  was 
that  way,  although  the  sun  blazed  toward  the  west, 
and  passed  by  on  the  other  side.  Mrs.  Beardsley 
comprehended  the  matter,  and  laughed  softly; 
she  would  sometime  undertake  Mrs.  Roberts,  she 
thought,  and  convert  her  to  her  own  theory  of 
neighborhood ;  but  that  time  had  not  come  yet. 

Next  to  Mrs.  Dean  lived  Mrs.  Morris ;  she  was  a 
pleasant,  energetic,  talkative  person ;  an  indefatiga- 
ble church-goer,  and  a  benevolent  soul ;  but  she  did 
not  belong  to  the  Blank  church,  and  the  Beardsleys 


148  Worth  Keeping. 

did;  she  went  to  the  Blanker  house  of  worship, 
and  did  not  care  about  any  other  denomina- 
tion. It  did  not  afflict  her  much  that  Mrs.  Beards- 
ley  was  one  of  the  inactive  sisters,  because  she 
was  a  Blank;  if  she  had  been  a  Blanker,  Mrs. 
Morris  would  have  been  as  troubled  as  Mrs.  Dean 
was  about  the  new  neighbor,  though  on  a  different 
principle. 

As  it  was,  she  called  on  her  after  a  while ;  but 
her  time  was  so  taken  up  with  the  Blanker  church, 
her  house  was  so  filled  and  overrun  with  all  the 
Blanker  congregation,  from  the  minister  down  to 
the  sexton  ;  she  had  so  many  weddings,  and  funer- 
als, and  societies  to  attend,  that  Mrs.  Beardsley 
hardly  saw  her  in  her  own  house  for  the  next  year, 
though  Mrs.  Morris's  call  was  promptly  returned. 

Next  to  Mrs.  Roberts  lived  the  Waters  family ; 
nice,  kindly,  plain  young  people;  Mrs.  Waters's 
sister  being  the  third  member  of  the  family.  The 
husband  was  a  tinner,  and  it  was  in  his  shop,  where 
she  was  buying  a  tea-kettle,  that  the  new  neighbor 
was  introduced  to  them.  They  meant  to  call,  they 
were  members  of  the  same  church  to  which  the 
Beardsley s  belonged,  and  lived  only  two  houses 
away ;  but  they  were  so  shy !  It  seemed  to  be  a 
sort  of  agony  to  them  to  speak  before  a  stranger ; 
they  blushed,  and  stammered,  and  looked  every 
way  but  the  right  one.  At  last,  after  a  year  of 
waiting,  they  came  one  evening,  but  they  never 
came  again. 


Who  Was  Mrs.  Beards  ley  s  Neighbor?      149 

Up  above  her,  for  the  street  was  on  the  side  of  a 
gentle  declivity,  Mrs.  Beardsley  had  another  neigh- 
bor, a  carpenter's  wife,  Mrs.  Green.  She,  too, 
seemed  to  be  shy  at  first,  but  was  attracted  after  a 
while  by  Justina's  flowers  and  Tommy's  merry  face. 
She  was  childless  herself,  and  her  one  passion  was 
flowers,  and  after  the  ice  was  broken  she  came  in 
often,  sometimes  with  an  apple  for  Tommy,  some- 
times with  a  rose  for  his  mother.  Mrs.  Roberts  had 
called  Mrs.  Beardsley  proud  and  "  stuck-up,"  but 
Mrs.  Green  did  not  find  her  so. 

"  She's  real  nice,"  was  her  unbiased  verdict,  as 
she  walked  home  one  night  with  the  Waters  family 
from  prayer-meeting.  "I  did  expect  she'd  be  a 
little  airy,  seein'  who  her  folks' was;  but  she  ain't, 
not  a  mite.  She's  as  pleasant  as  pie.  I  dunno 
when  I've  set  so  much  by  a  new  neighbor  as  I  do 
by  her.  Mis'  Dean's  a  leetle  too  high  in  the  instep 
for  me  ;  and  Mis'  Morris,  she  don't  care  for  nobody 
without  they're  a  Blanker;  and  you  can't  take  no 
solid  comfort  with  Mis'  Roberts,  she's  so  partic'lar 
leest  you  shouldn't  think  so  much  of  her  as  you'd 
ought  to.  But,  my  !  Mis'  Beardsley,  she's  just  as 
easy  as  an  old  shoe.  I  wish't  I  hadn't  stayed  away 
so  long,  but  you  know,  Malviny,  I  ain't  no  hand  to 
make  acquaintance  with  folks.  I  don't  know  as  I 
should  ever  ha'  knowed  you  if  John  hadn't  been 
my  nephew."  Mrs.  Waters  gave  a  little  laugh,  but 
she  did  not  say  anything ;  she  did  not  remember 
much  about  her  own  call  on  the  new  neighbor  but 
her  own  painful  shyness. 


150  Worth  Keeping. 

There  was  still  another  neighbor  on  the  street, 
old  Miss  Betsey  Parker,  the  tailoress,  who  lived  in 
a  small  brown  house  next  but  one  to  that  which 
the  Beardsleys  occupied.  She  was  a  plain,  unedu- 
cated woman,  having  plenty  of  common  sense  and 
a  cheerful  nature ;  no  especial  talent,  or  brightness, 
or  charm  of  aspect,  but  she  was  an  honest  and 
humble  Christian.  Mrs.  Dean  sent  her  sewing, 
when  she  had  it ;  and  Mrs.  Morris  found  it  very 
handy  to  have  a  tailoress  so  close  by  when  her  two 
big  boys  tore  their  clothes,  especially  as  Miss 
Betsey  went  to  the  Blanker  church.  Beside  these 
small  sources  of  income  she  made  shrouds  from 
the  Dalton  factory,  and  coffin  trimmings,  the  day 
of  tailoress  work  having  gone  by ;  and  she  owned 
the  little  old  house  she  lived  in,  which  was  set 
about  with  cinnamon  roses  and  lilacs,  and  had  a 
garden  devoted  chiefly  to  corn,  beans  and  squashes, 
though  a  great  bunch  of  clove  pinks  and  a  cluster 
of  red  peonies  adorned  its  border.  She  was  the 
first  neighbor  whose  acquaintance  Mrs.  Beardsley 
made.  While  that  weary  woman  was  putting  down 
her  parlor  carpet,  she  looked  up  at  the  sound  of  a 
kind  voice,  and  saw  a  slat  sunbonnet  peering  round 
the  edge  of  the  door ;  deep  in  its  gingham  vault 
Miss  Betsey's  cheerful  face  smiled  at  her.  "  I 
thought  mebbe  I  could  help  you  someway.  I  live 
next  door  but  one,  and  if  you  want  anything  I've 
got  just  send  for  it;  matches,  or  salt,  or  an  extry 
hammer.  I  know  how  'tis;  folks  always  forget 


Who  Was  Mrs.  Beardsleys  Neighbor  ?      151 

somethin'.  Mercy's  sake  !  let  me  git  hold  of  that 
stretcher !  them  poor  little  hands  o'  yourn  ain't  fit 
for  such  heavy  work ;  "  and  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  she  took  Mrs.  Beardsley's  place,  and  the 
refractory  carpet  became  docile  at  once,  while  poor 
Justina  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  felt  like  crying 
from  mere  relief.  "  There !  I  wish  'twas  the  first 
instead  o'  the  last.  I  live  right  up  here  in  that 
small  house  with  the  lean-to,  and  if  you  want  a 
thing  I've  got,  to  help  ye,  send  right  up.  My 
name's  Betsey  Parker." 

"  Oh  thank  you.  I  was  so  tired ! "  was  the  rather 
incoherent  answer  ;  but  the  very  grateful  look  out 
of  Mrs.  Beardsley's  expressive  eyes  filled  it  out  for 
Miss  Betsey. 

She  had  not  stopped  to  consider  her  own  posi- 
tion or  her  neighbor's,  but  came  at  once  to  see  if 
she  could  help.  And  this  was  only  the  beginning ; 
she  brought  many  a  fresh  egg  over  to  tempt  Jus- 
tina's  delicate  appetite,  though  her  poultry  was  only 
three  bantam  hens.  And  again  and  again  when  her 
neighbor  had  a  headache,  she  took  Tommy  home 
with  her  for  the  day,  though  she  had  sometimes  to 
stay  at  home  from  church  with  him.  She  had  no 
carriage  like  Mrs.  Morris  to  give  her  neighbor  a 
drive  —  as  Mrs.  Morris  never  did.  She  had  no 
loaded  fruit-trees  like  Mrs.  Dean,  who  kept  her 
pears  and  peaches  for  her  own  and  the  minister's 
family,  exclusively ;  but  her  black-cap  raspberries 
were  more  than  shared  with  Mrs.  Waters,  as  well 


152  Worth  Keeping. 

as  Mrs.  Beardsley,  and  her  currants  were  almost 
public  property. 

"  I  really  hain't  had  enough  for  jell  this  year," 
she  said  apologetically  to  Mrs.  Green,  "  and  I  do 
lot  on  jell,  it's  so  good  for  the  sick  ;  but  then,  fresh 
currants  is  real  refreshin'  this  hot  weather,  you 
know  it's  been  master  hot  right  along  for  a  spell, 
and  there  ain't  but  a  few  has  got  as  good  currants 
as  mine  be." 

At  last  Mrs.  Beardsley  fell  ill  of  low  fever ;  she 
was  very  lonely,  for  Fred  had  to  be  all  day  at  his 
work,  and  the  girl  in  the  kitchen  had  her  hands 
full  with  Tommy  and  the  housework.  The  doctor's 
gig  at  the  door  notified  the  neighbors  of  the 
trouble,  and  after  it  had  stopped  there  daily  for  a 
week,  Mrs.  Dean  sent  over  her  girl  to  inquire  how 
Mrs.  Beardsley  was.  Mrs.  Morris  met  her  hus- 
band in  the  street,  and  asked  him  the  same  ques- 
tion. Mrs.  Roberts  was  not  concerned  about  the 
matter.  "Those  upper-crust  folks  keep  sending  in 
to  ask,  I  see;  I  haven't  never  called  there,  so  I 
ain't  wanted  nor  needed  now  as  I  know  of." 

But  she  did  tell  the  doctor  she  was  a  good 
watcher,  and  would  go  if  they  couldn't  get  anybody 
else. 

Mrs.  Waters  had  a  little  baby,  and  could  do  noth- 
ing, yet  she  sent  in  a  rosebud,  the  first  from  her 
one  cherished  bush,  and  Justina  cried  over  it ;  she 
was  so  weak !  Mrs.  Green  came  over  once  or 
twice,  and  sent  some  custard ;  but  she  "  wan't  no 


Who  Was  Mrs.  Beards  ley  s  Neighbor  ?     153 

use  in  sickness ;  so  dreadful  nervous,"  her  husband 
said. 

Miss  Betsey  was  out  of  town  at  first,  but  as  soon 
as  she  came  back  not  a  day  passed  that  she  did  not 
go  over  and  cheer  the  sick  woman  with  homely, 
earnest  words  of  faith  and  hope  and  good-will. 
She  went  into  the  kitchen  and  made  beef  tea,  she 
came  up  stairs  and  shook  up  her  hot  pillows,  replen- 
ished the  fire,  combed  out  the  tangled  hair  with  the 
gentlest  fingers,  and  kept  Tommy  w^ith  her  in 
the  intervals,  as  long  as  he  could  be  coaxed  to  stay. 
When  Mrs.  Beardsley  was  getting  better,  the  first 
day  she  could  sit  up,  after  Miss  Betsey  had  made 
her  comfortable  with  cushions  and  a  footstool,  the 
poor  languid  woman  put  her  thin  arms  about 
the  old  lady's  neck,  and  kissed  her,  and  dropping 
her  head  on  that  sturdy  shoulder  burst  into  irre- 
pressible sobs. 

"  Lawful  sakes !  don't  ye  do  so,  child  !  stop  right 
off.  Why,  you'll  be  all  tuckered  out  when  he  gets 
home,  ef  you  do  so.  Now,  stop  right  off ! " 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  sobbed  Tina  ;  "  you're  so  good, 
Miss  Betsey  ;  you're  a  real  angel ! " 

"  The  mortal !  You  must  be  out  o'  your  mind, 
child.  Who  ever  saw  an  angel  with  yaller-gray 
hair  and  not  but  six  teeth*  to  show  for't  ?"  laughed 
the  good  old  soul.  "  You  stop  cryin'  and  talkin' 
about  angels,  and  swaller  your  beef  tea,  or  the 
doctor'll  be  scoldin'  of  ye,  for  certain  sure." 

When    Mrs.    Beardsley  was  well    enough    for 


154  Worth  Keeping. 

change  of  air,  she  went  into  Dal  ton  to  see  her 
sister,  who  had  but  just  come  back  from  Europe, 
and  was  naturally  eager  to  hear  all  about  Tina's 
surroundings. 

"  And  have  you  got  any  neighbors,  dear  ?  "  she 
asked,  after  many  other  questions. 

'•  One,"  said  Justina,  smiling. 

The  question  still  remains  to  be  answered: 

"  Who  was  Mrs.  Beardsley's  neighbor  ?  " 


—  First  and  Last.  \  5  5 


JESUS -FIRST  AND  LAST. 


JIVERYTHING  in  Jesus  Christ  astonishes 
me.  So  said  Napoleon  Bonaparte  at  St. 
Helena ;  and  then  he  added  :  "  The  birth 
of  Jesus,  the  story  of  His  life,  the  profoundness 
of  His  doctrines  which  overturn  all  difficulties, 
His  empire,  His  progress  through  all  centuries, 
all  this  is  f-p  me  a  prodigy!  It  is  great  with  a 
greatness  that  crushes  me."  What  a  contrast  was 
there  to  Napoleon  between  the  empire  of  the 
Cross  j»nd  his  own  imperial  image  of  "  iron  and 
clay,"  which  had  been  set  up  at  the  cost  of  a 
million  of  lives,  and  which  had  been  shattered  to 
pieces  by  the  moral  indignation  of  Europe ! 

If  Jesus  Christ  appeared  wonderful  to  the  fallen 
giant  at  St.  Helena  even  when  glanced  at  occasion- 
ally, how  much  more  wonderful  is  He  to  those  of 
us  who  study  Him  with  both  the  head  and  the 
heart.  He  not  only  "astonishes"  us;  He  enchants 
and  captivates.  Whenever  we  open  our  Bibles  we 
see  Jesus ;  just  as  whenever  we  look  up  at  Cha- 
mouny  we  see  Mont  Blanc.  In  the  earlier  part  of 
the  Old  Testament  we  descry  the  august  form  of 
the  Messiah  somewhat  enveloped  by  mists  —  like 


156  Worth  Keeping 

Mont  Blanc  at  early  dawn  —  but  as  we  go  on 
farther  into  the  ancient  word,  the  mists  steadily 
move  off,  until  in  the  New  Testament  we  see  none 
but  Jesus  only,  in  His  unclouded  glory.  He  is  the 
Alpha  and  the  Omega  of  the  whole  Bible,  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end,  the  first  and  the  last.  In  Gene- 
sis He  appears  as  the  "  seed  of  the  woman."  The 
smoke  of  Abel's  altar  points  towards  Him.  Old 
dying  Jacob  catches  a  glimpse  of  Him  as  the 
advancing  "  Shiloh  "  from  his  couch  of  death.  The 
blood  that  stains  the  Jewish  lintels  on  the  night  of 
the  exodus,  is  but  a  type  of  that  Lamb  of  God  who 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world !  Moses  and  the 
prophets  all  testify  of  Jesus.  Just  as  the  rich 
sonorous  blast  of  an  Alpine  horn  on  the  Wengern 
is  echoed  back  from  the  peak  of  the  Jungfrau,  so 
every  verse  of  the  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah  is 
echoed  in  the  New  Testament  story  of  Jesus.  In 
short,  the  Bible  is  so  full  of  Christ  that  He  is  its 
Alpha'  and  Omega ;  His  name  is  the  key  to  unlock 
the  Old  Testament,  and  the  crown  to  glorify  the 
New. 

The  man  who  loves  his  Bible  best,  loves  Jesus 
above  every  other.  He  is  often  ready  to  cry  out 
with  the  impassioned  fervor  of  Rutherford  :  "  Woe 
upon  all  love  but  the  love  of  Christ !  A  hunger 
forevermore  be  upon  all  heaven  but  Christ ;  a 
shame  forevermore  be  upon  all  but  Christ's  glory ! 
I  cry  death  be  upon  all  manner  of  life  but  the  life 
of  Christ !  I  would  not  exchange  one  smile  of  His 


Jestts  —  First  and  Last.  157 

lovely  face  for  kingdoms.  He  is  a  Rose  that  beau- 
tifieth  all  the  Upper  Garden  of  God  —  a  leaf  of 
that  rose  of  God  for  smell  is  worth  a  world. 
Oh !  His  sweetness,  His  weight,  His  overpassing 
beauty ! "  In  such  rapturous  expressions  did  one 
of  Christ's  martyrs  set  forth  his  heart-loyalty  to 
the  Saviour  in  whom  his  soul  delighted.  The  lan- 
guage seems  extravagant  and  Oriental  to  those  who 
have  never  tasted  of  the  love  of  Jesus,  or  rested  on 
His  bosom  in  hours  of  sore  trial. 

If  the  Bible  be  so  full  of  Christ,  and  the  expe- 
riences of  the  best  and  holiest  Christians  have 
exuded  with  Christ  like  honey  from  the  pressed 
honeycomb ;  then  our  preaching  ought  to  be  full  of 
Christ  Jesus  also.  That  is  the  best  sermon  which 
presents  the  Saviour  of  sinners  the  most  clearly, 
prominently  and  powerfully  to  a  congregation  of 
sinners.  That  is  the  most  strengthening  and  com- 
forting discourse  for  God's  people  which  brings 
them  closest  to  His  everlasting  arms.  When  a 
minister  has  been  holding  up  before  his  auditors 
the  exceeding  sinful  ness  of  sin,  and  the  sure  retri- 
butions of  the  "  wrath  to  come,"  oh  !  how  his  soul 
rejoices  to  lift  up  before  them  that  crucified  Jesus 
whose  blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin.  It  would  be 
the  refinement  of  cruelty  to  preach  the  depravity 
and  hell-deservings  of  the  human  heart,  if  we  could 
not  follow  with  the  swift,  sure  remedy  for  all  this 
wretched  guilt  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  Redeemer. 

There  is  a  system  of  salvation  in  the   inspired 


158  Wort 'h  Keeping. 

Word  —  yes!  and  a  system  of  heaven-inspired 
theology,  too,  that  runs  through  the  Scriptures  as 
a  system  of  physical  laws  runs  through  the  sunlight 
and  the  stellar  universe.  But  it  is  not  the  system 
that  saves  the  sinner,  or  comforts  the  saint.  It  is 
Christ — the  living,  personal  Saviour — the  center 
and  subject  of  the  system,  but  as  much  greater 
than  the  system  as  the  sun  is  greater  than  the 
manual  of  astronomy  which  a  schoolboy  studies. 
When  your  limb  is  beginning  to  mortify,  you  don't 
want  a  treatise  on  surgery ;  you  want  the  skillful 
surgeon.  What  our  people  need  to  know  is  to 
know  who  can  cleanse  away  their  guilt,  who  can 
secure  their  pardon,  who  can  deliver  them  from  the 
power  of  the  devil,  who  can  relieve  their  distresses, 
who  can  bear  their  burdens,  who  can  endue  them 
with  strength  to  conquer,  and  who  can  save  their 
immortal  souls.  They  want  a  pattern  to  live  by. 
They  want  a  guide.  They  want  a  Friend  ever  near 
to  show  them  through  life's  dark  places,  and  to  help 
them  in  its  places  of  danger.  Simply  for  ethical 
purposes,  there  is  no  preaching  so  instructive  and 
effective  as  the  clear  presentation  of  Christ  Jesus 
as  our  perfect  model.  Church-members  never  steal 
trust-funds,  never  lie,  never  default,  when  they  have 
their  eye  upon  their  Divine  Master,  and  are  striv- 
ing to  walk  as  they  have  him  for  an  ensample.  Our 
young  converts  never  get  into  ball-rooms,  or  gam- 
bling-parties, or  impure  resorts,  or  revelings,  while 
they  are  trying  to  please  Jesus.  A  system,  or  a 


Jesus  —  First  and  Last.  159 

church-covenant,  don't  affect  the  conscience  like 
a  look  from  a  personal  divine  Saviour;  especially 
where  loyalty  to  that  Saviour  is  accompanied  by 
His  gracious  omnipotent  help  to  keep  us  in  the 
straight  path.  For  one,  I  am  never  uneasy  about 
those  members  of  my  flock  who  make  Christ  their 
Alpha  and  their  Omega.  They  never  make  me 
blush  for  them,  or  give  me  a  wakeful  hour. 

I  am  also  fully  persuaded  that  the  most  effect- 
ual antidote  to  the  current  skepticism  of  the  times 
is  to  present  the  incarnate  Son  of  God  continually. 
Christ  is  the  only  cure  for  infidelity !  Young 
brother  in  the  ministry !  cut  that  truth  as  with  the 
pen  of  a  diamond  on  your  heart,  and  on  your 
work !  No  skeptic  can  out-general  you,  or  worst 
you,  on  that  ground.  If  you  can  get  him  there, 
and  keep  him  there,  the  Cross  may  conquer  him. 

Guide's  great  painting  of  the  "  Aurora,"  on  the 
frescoed  ceilings  of  the  Roman  palace,  is  hard  to 
look  at ;  but  when  reflected  in  a  mirror  on  the 
floor,  it  can  be  easily  studied  for  hours.  So  Jesus 
reflects  GOD  to  us.  Beholding  as  in  a  mirror,  with 
open  face,  this  glory  of  the  infinite  God,  we  may 
Se  changed  into  a  likeness  to  that  image,  from 
glory  to  glory,  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.  So 
let  us  all  study  Jesus,  an<l  trust  Jesus,  and  obey 
Jesus,  that  we  may  resemble  Him  more  and  more 
till  we  go  up  to  "  see  Him  as  He  is ! " 


160  Worth  Keeping. 


ONLY  A  STEP-MOTHER. 


]HE  child  is  never  dressed  in  any  kind  of 
style.  She  always  looks  as  if  the  odds 
and  ends  of  everybody's  clothes  had  been 
sewed  together  to  cover  her  up.  Has  she  any 
mother  ? 

This  question  was  asked  by  a  lady  standing 
before  a  long  mirror  while  her  maid  was  looping  up 
and  tying  back  her  drapery,  preparatory  for  a  great 
public  reception  or  ball. 

"  Only  a  step-mother,"  replied  the  waiting  friend, 
as  she  turned  her  hand  in  the  light  to  catch  the 
flash  of  her  diamonds.  "  Only  a  step-mother  ;  and 
she,  poor  young  thing,  must  have  a  doleful  time  of 
it  as  well  as  the  children.  She  actually  wears  the 
same  cloak  she  had  when  she  was  married  three 
years  ago.  But  it  is  nobody's  fault  but  her  own ; 
for  she  must  have  known  how  much  of  his  prop- 
erty Mr.  Cornell  had  lost,  and  what  a  tribe  of 
youngsters  he  had  to  feed  and  clothe.  It  does 
seem  a  shame  for  her  to  have  had  such  a  downfall, 
a  girl  of  such  taste  and  such  sweetness  of  temper. 
I  remember  how  we  all  admired  and  perhaps 
envied  her  tiny  gold  watch  and  emerald  ring  at 
school.  Poor  girl !  She  was  very  beautiful." 


Only  a  Step-Mother.  161 

"  I  don't  pity  her  at  all !  "  cried  the  lady  at  the 
glass,  with  much  emphasis.  "  She  must  have  had  a 
low  taste —  not  shown  out  in  her  girlhood  —  or  she 
would  never  have  thrown  away  her  beauty,  and  the 
position  it  promised  her,  on  a  widower  in  a  two- 
story  house  with  three  children  and  one  seryant. 
I  don't  care  a  straw  for  your  old  schoolmate,  though 
I  do  pity  the  children  she  dresses  out  of  her  rag- 
bag, maybe  with  their  dead  mother's  clothes !  I 
only  wish  that  pretty  little  Kitty  wouldn't  cleave  to 
my  Bess  as  she  does.  I'm  so  afraid  strangers  will 
think  she  is  one  of  my  children  ! "~ 

The  last  rose  was  now  fixed  in  the  folds  of  the 
dress,  the  last  glove  buttoned,  and  the  last  admiring 
glance  cast  into  the  mirror;  and  then  the  woman 
who  pitied  the  child  with  "only  a  step-mother,"  left 
her  own  baby  sleeping  in  the  care  of  an  irresponsi- 
ble Irish  nurse,  who  might,  and  probably  would, 
join  the  "gang"  in  the  kitchen  as  soon  as  the 
carriage  rolled  away.  Two  older  children  called 
from  their  cribs  in  the  next  room :  "  Don't  stay  long, 
mamma ;  Bridget  is  so  cross  when  you're  gone." 

And  the  mother,  bent  on  pleasure,  called  back 
with  a  wink  at  her  friend  :  "  No,  dears ;  mamma 
will  be  back  before  daylight !  " 

And  then  these  two  "  silken  wonders "  shone 
and  sparkled  in  the  dance  as  if  they  had  never  had 
a  sorrow  or  a  care,  when  in  reality  their  laces  and 
jewels  covered  aching  and  disappointed  hearts. 

The  brown-stone  house,  with  story  piled  on  story, 
it- 


1 62  Worth  Keeping. 

where  the  little  children  lay  worrying  and  fretting 
for  their  "  own  mother ;  "  with  all  the  pictures,  and 
statuary,  and  drapery,  and  jewels  it  contained, 
were  the  price  of  blood.  Its  owner  had  heaped  up 
gold  on  the  ruin  of  a  thousand  homes  and  ten 
thousand  broken  hearts.  Of  course  he  was  "a 
respectable  man  in  the  community,  and  never  sold 
a  single  glass  of  liquor  in  his  life ; "  but  he  had 
sold  barrels  and  hogsheads  and  pipes  and  tierces 
enough  to  make  millions  of  "  single  glasses,"  each 
one  of  which,  with  the  ruin  it  had  wrought,  was  set 
down  to  his  account  against  the  great  day  of  reck- 
oning ! 

These  high  crimes  against  God  and  man  had 
never  cost  the  gay  wife  a  tear  nor  an  hour's  sleep. 
But  something  else  had !  She  was  quite  willing 
other  homes  should  be  laid  in  ashes,  but  she  wanted 
her  own  kept  bright;  quite  willing  other  wives 
should  lose  the  love  and  the  tender  care  of  their 
husbands,  but  she  wanted  her  husband  to  have  no 
charm  beyond  his  own  home  and  his  own  family. 

But  no  man  can  spend  his  days  defiling  and  ruin- 
ing others,  without  being  himself  defiled  and 
ruined.  The  business  of  a  man's  life  tells  on  his 
character  for  good  or  evil.  Fast  horses,  clubs,  the 
gaming  table  and  the  wine  cup,  were  telling  rapidly 
on  him.  He  spent  little  time  2t  home,  although 
his  pride  in  his  fine  house,  3tylish  wife  and  pretty 
children,  induced  him  to  shower  money,  in  any 
amount,  upon  them.  While  this  gratified  his  wife, 


Only  a  Step-Mother.  163 

his  neglect  chagrined,  mortified,  and  perhaps 
wounded  her  ;  and  drove  her  out  into  the  follies  of 
the  world  in  search  of  the  peace  and  joy  a  good 
true  wife  and  mother  finds  chiefly  at  home. 

A  very  different  life  was  led  by  the  woman  who 
was  "  only  a  step-mother,"  and  who  lived,  as  the 
other  thought,  contemptibly,  "  in  a  two-story  house, 
with  three  children  and  one  servant." 

Misfortune  has  not  the  power  to  wreck  all  homes  ; 
many  are  built  above  its  reach,  and  lie  secure  from 
the  winds  and  tempests  of  earth,  as  if  in  the  hollow 
of  God's  hand,  where  even  that  severing  of  bonds 
which  must  come  alike  to  all,  is  but  the  signal  for 
a  blessed  and  permanent  reunion. 

One  of  these  "  homes  of  the  blessed  "  was  that 
presided  over  by  this  "  step-mother."  She  had  not 
married  blindly,  nor  in  haste ;  she  knew  well  what 
she  was  doing,  and  for  whom  she  was  to  labor, 
when  she  took  up  the  work  a  sainted  woman  had 
laid  down  in  strong  hope  and  earnest  trust  in  God. 
She  knew  the  man  she  loved,  and  in  whom  her 
heart  trusted,  had  met  with  business  reverses,  and 
that  as  an  honest  man  he  must  greatly  reduce  his 
style  of  living;  she  knew  also  that  his  sweet,  moth- 
erless children  would  bring  on  her  labor  and  cares 
unknown  before ;  but  she  counted  the  cost,  took 
up  her  life's  work,  and  had  matured  into  a  bright, 
strong  and  brave  woman.  By  her  rare  tact  and 
management  she  had  encouraged  her  husband  to 
regain  step  by  step  the  footing  he  had  lost,  and 


164  Worth  Keeping. 

inspired  him  with  a  belief  that  as  he  had  retained 
his  honor  and  the  good  opinion  of  all,  even  of  those 
who  had  lost  money  through  him,  he  might  yet  be 
the  counselor  and  helper  of  many  in  financial 
troubles. 

She  relieved  him  of  every  home  care,  made  his 
children  as  happy  as  they  had  ever  been,  and 
reduced  his  domestic  expenses  to  a  low  figure, 
compared  with  those  incurred  by  his  housekeeper 
before  her  coming.  She  kept  his  heart  true  to  her 
and  his  home,  making  that  the  brightest  and  sun- 
niest spot  on  earth  to  him. 

She  taught  his  children  —  her  children  she  called 
them  —  the  sweet  lessons  of  their  own  mother, 
whose  image  she  strove  to  keep  fresh  in  their 
minds,  and  before  whose  picture  in  the  parlor  she 
encouraged  them  to  keep,  always,  a  little  vase  of 
fresh  flowers ;  and  impressed  on  them  the  truth 
that,  if  they  followed  her  pure  example,  they  would 
surely  meet  her  by  and  by  in  the  beautiful  home 
where  she  was  waiting  for  them. 

This  lovely  woman  gave  the  best  years  of  her  life 
to  the  work  she  had  taken  at  the  hands  of  God ; 
and  although  she  saw  nothing  of  the  world  of 
fashion,  she  was  a  truly  happy  woman.  Her  home 
was  her  kingdom,  her  reward  was  present  and  very 
great ;  and  the  love  of  these  children  was  a  crown 
to  her. 

As  the  years  wore  on,  great  success  crowned  her 
husband's  efforts.  He  stood  again,  while  yet  in 


Only  a  Step-Mother.  165 

middle  life,  in  his  former  place  in  business  circles ; 
and  his  generosity  prompted  him,  as  far  as  he  could 
do  so  honorably,  to  surround  his  family  with  all  the 
real  refinements  of  life  which  they  were  so  well 
able  to  appreciate  and  enjoy.  This  step-mother 
had  enjoyed  life  as  it  went  by,  even  amid  some 
cares  and  privations  ;  and  she  never  saw  the  day 
that  she  envied  any  man's  wife  her  costly  home, 
rich  wardrobe  or  rare  jewels.  And  now  that  she 
had  all  that  heart  could  desire,  she  shared  her 
blessings  with  others,  and  so  was  herself  doubly 
blessed. 

If  there  is  work  in  this  world  worthy  of  angel's 
hands,  it  is  hers  who  takes  up  the  gentle  words  and 
tireless  ministrations  of  a  sainted  mother,  and 
makes  her  bereaved  children  happy ! 

If  there  is  a  woman  on  earth  who  deserves  the 
sympathy  and  love  of  other  women,  it  is  she  who 
is  thus  filling  up  another's  measure  of  love  to  the 
motherless.  If  the  redeemed  in  glory  can  follow 
with  purified  vision  the  beloved  of  earth  in  all  their 
ways  —  and  shall  any  one  dare  to  say  they  cannot? 
—  what  benedictions  must  be  hourly  falling  on  the 
heads  'of  those  of  whom  the  heartless  may  say: 
"  They  are  only  step-mothers." 

While  this  lovely  woman's  abundant  brown  hair 
was  still  untouched  by  time,  the  home  where  she 
was  ridiculed,  "  pitied,"  was  no  more  a  home  !  The 
last  diamonds  had  sparkled  there,  and  the  last  roses 
been  twined  in  the  rich  garments  of  its  heartless 
mistress. 


1 66  Worth  Keeping. 

The  serpent  in  the  wine  cup  had  struck  at  the 
heart  of  the  husband  and  father  with  his  poisoned 
fangs ;  and  although  he  had  never  sold  "  a  single 
glass  of  liquor,"  he  had  drank  thousands  of  them, 
to  his  ruin  ! 

He  was  now  alienated  from  his  wife,  and  from 
his  children,  none  of  whom  had  skill  or  faculty  to 
earn  their  living,  and  so  were  scattered,  in  misera- 
ble dependence,  among  half  a  dozen  relatives. 

"  Little  Kitty  "  and  "  Bess  "  had  kept  their  baby 
friendship  unbroken,  and  now  the  sweet  unfortu- 
nate was  invited  to  pass  a  year  with  the  young  girl 
who  had  "  only  a  step-mother,"  in  the  full  hope  that 
her  accomplishments  might  be  so  directed  as  to 
become  a  source  of  independence  to  herself,  and, 
perhaps,  to  her  disheartened  mother  and  the  little 
children. 

And  she  is  learning  now,  in  that  happy  home, 
that  life  is  something  more  than  a  holiday,  and  that 
the  world  is  more  than  a  mere  playground. 


Lessons  Learned  by  Sickness.  167 


LESSONS  LEARNED  BY  SICKNESS. 


ilVERY  one  hears  of  the  humiliations  of 
sickness.  There  are  enough  of  those.  For 
a  grown  man,  a  man  well  on  in  years,  who 
had  begun  to  think  he  had  gome  rights  for  others 
to  respect,  to  be  treated  like  a  baby  —  with  no  will 
worth  speaking  of ;  his  food,  drink,  medicine,  rest, 
such,  and  given  at  such  times  as  suit  other  people's 
notions  ;  to  be  laid  on  the  right  side  or  the  left,  on 
the  spine  or  the  nose,  as  his  keepers  choose,  does 
not  tend  to  greaten  his  self-esteem  unduly.  Then, 
for  long  days  and  nights  to  be  so  heavily  poulticed 
as  to  one  side  of  the  head  that,  when  lifted,  it 
wobbles  like  that  of  one  of  Nast's  rag-babies,  does 
not  largely  swell  one's  pride.  No  more  does  a 
string  of  blisters,  to  make  room  for  which  venera- 
ble locks  have  been  closely  shorn.  And  when, 
beside  these,  comes  along  a  Swedish  pumping  firm, 
the  "Leech  Brothers,"  and  after  careful  survey 
sink  several  wells  back  of  the  ear  and  down  the 
neck,  robbing  one  of  his  very  life-blood,  that  one 
thing  which  he  called  his  own,  he  finds  of  how 
little  account  he  really  is.  Thenceforth  he  not 
only  sees  how  it  is  that  the  world  can  go  on  as 


1 68  Worth  Keeping. 

well  without  as  with  him,  but  he  becomes  very 
willing  it  should. 

Yet  to  this  there  is  an  offset.  This  sick  old 
infant  sees  that,  after  all,  entire  household  arrange- 
ments are  shaped  to  meet  his  single  needs.  The 
tenderest  care  of  the  best  beloved,  aided  by  old 
friends,  is  not  too  precious  to  be  lavished  on  him 
day  and  night,  through  long,  restless,  wearing 
weeks.  The  wisest  physicians  give  him  their  time, 
their  skill,  their  careful  study,  and  the  best  results 
of  their  long  experience.  Thoughtful  friends  send 
in  costly  delicacies  —  flowers,  perfumes,  rare  fruits, 
preserves  and  jellies.  Daily  calls  from  neighbors, 
letters  of  inquiry  and  sympathy  from  many  in  all 
parts  of  the  land  whom  the  good  love  to  honor  — 
these  and  many  like  things  help  to  hold  the  balance 
even,  show  what  a  warm  place  the  sick  man  has  in 
many  true  hearts,  and  keep  him  from  giving  up  life 
in  utter  disgust. 

Of  great  worth  is  that  new  view  the  sick  man 
gets  of  the  closeness  and  delicacy  of  the  link 
between  the  body  and  the  mind  ;  the  thinness  of 
the  line  between  sound  and  unsound  mental  states 
and  acts.  What  more  real  (to  himself)  than  a  sick 
man's  dreams  and  fancies,  that  so  quickly  vanish 
with  the  sunrise  ?  What  speeches  he  makes  ;  what 
sermons  he  preaches  ;  what  new  grand  inventions 
are  those  of  his  half-waking,  half-sleeping  night 
hours ;  what  plans  for  the  profit  of  himself  and 
others,  to  be  surely  executed  to-morrow,  but  which 


Lessons  Learned  by  Sickness.  169 

to-morrow  he  laughs  at !  He  must  be  a  hard  man 
in  whom  such  experience  does  not  waken  fresh 
thankfulness  to  the  divine  love  that  carries  mind 
and  body  safely  through  years  of  toil,  care,  expos- 
ure ;  forces  from  without  and  within  that  might  so 
easily  sway  the  mind  from  the  pivot  of  sanity,  and 
leave  it  to  shoot  off  into  fatal  wreck. 

It  is  worth  going  through  such  a  time  of  weak- 
ness and  pain  to  get  the  "  realizing  sense  "  it  gives 
of  many  truths  which  one  knew  all  about  before : 
the  value  of  tried  friendship ;  the  true  use  of  time, 
talents,  money  ;  the  full  meaning  and  blessedness 
of  our  Father's  best  earthly  gifts  —  Christian 
marriage  and  home  ;  the  strong  comfort  of  a  set- 
tled definite  religious  faith  ;  the  aspect  that  death 
wears  when  looked  at  as  a  near  reality,  and  no 
longer  as  a  far-off  shadow.  Everybody  knows  that 
a  sick  bed  is  no  place  to  prepare  for  death.  He 
who  has  been  there  not  only  knows,  but  believes  it. 
And  he  will  grudge  no  pain  or  fear  that  has  tested 
the  clearness  of  his  trust  in  the  Gospel,  and  the 
strength  of  his  hold  on  the  Saviour  it  reveals  — 
faith  and  trust  which  it  is  one  thing  to  profess  in 
the  sunlight,  and  quite  another  to  anchor  the  soul 
upon  in  darkness  and  storm. 

The  man  has  not  been  very  sick  who  doubts,  as 
so  many  try  to  doubt,  that  there  is  to  be  a 
final  judgment.  "What  folly,"  some  say,  "to 
believe  that  God  can,  if  He  would,  keep  a  true 
record  of  all  one's  earthly  life,  and  bring  him  to 


170  Worth  Keeping. 

account  for  it."  But  when,  face  to  face  with  death, 
one  has  seen  trooping  back  not  only  the  sins  of  his 
whole  life,  but  his  foibles,  and  even  little  boyish 
slips  in  rhatters  of  mere  etiquette,  forgotten  long 
ago,  he  does  not  have  to  be  told  that  no  formal 
record  from  without  will  be  needed ;  on  each  soul 
its  life's  story  is  branded ;  each  conscience  will 
bring  along  its  own  account. 

Nor  will  such  a  one  doubt  that  God  can  and 
should  punish  unrepented  sin.  Life's  near-coming 
end  gives  a  new  hue  and  meaning  to  its  purpose, 
opportunities,  responsibilities ;  weighs  anew  its 
values ;  sounds  with  new  line  and  plummet  the 
guilt  of  him  who  wastes  or  abuses  it.  And  when, 
in  visions  of  the  night,  the  Almighty  causes  to  rise 
before  a  soul  that  has  so  measured  life,  those  living 
wheels  of  his  power  and  law  that  Ezekiel  saw,  "  so 
high  that  they  were  dreadful,"  he  will  thenceforth 
hide  his  face,  and  never  more  presume  to  "  contend 
with  Him  that  is  mightier  than  he." 

But  with  brighter  visions  the  morning  sun, 
emblem  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  irradiates 
the  tears  of  the  penitent.  From  the  horizon  to  the 
zenith  rise  those  gates  of  the  city  through  which 
the  pardoned  enter.  As  he  gazes  the  solid  pearl 
seems  to  change  to  living  beings,  angels  and 
seraphs,  whose  moving  wings,  glowing  with  tints 
of  opal,  sapphire,  emerald  and  amethyst,  beckon 
him  onward.  At  his  approach  the  living  portals 
roll  back.  Far  within,  on  a  great  white  throne,  sits 


Lessons  Learned  by  Sickness.  171 

One  on  whose  face  he  dares  not  look.  Along  the 
golden  streets  a  blessed  company  hasten  to  meet 
the  new  comer.  Familiar  faces  smile  upon  him, 
and  warm  hands  of  parents,  sisters,  spiritual  chil- 
dren, brethren  in  the  Lord's  service,  welcome  him 
to  the  Father's  house.  The  circle  opens,  and  over 
the  shining  pavement  comes  running  with  out- 
spread arms  a  fair-haired  child,  with  the  same 
joyous  laugh  and  greeting  as  of  old.  In  the  rap- 
ture of  that  meeting  the  dream  is  broken.  It  is 
hard  to  come  back  from  that  vision  of  sinless  joy 
and  rest  to  this  world  of  work  and  trial  and  sin. 
But  henceforth  it  can  hardly  be  the  same  world  it 
has  been.  Mayhap  yet  one  more  will  be  able  to 
sing,  "It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted, 
that  I  might  learn  thy  precepts." 


172  Worth  Keeping. 


HIRAM  LYNDE'S  EXPERIMENT. 


"  Full  many  a  shaft  at  random  sent, 
Finds  mark  the  archer  little  meant." 


]F  Hiram  Lynde  had  been  an  Irishman,  or 
an  African,  he  would  have  been  amply  sat- 
isfied with  his  position  as  gardener  and 
hostler  for  Mark  Harrington,  Esq.,  which  yielded 
him  good  wages.  But  he  was  a  stanch,  northern 
Vermonter,  who  found  it  hard  to  realize  there  is  a 
wide  social  distinction  between  the  employer  and 
employe  in  the  suburbs  of  New  York.  To  be  con- 
sidered an  upper  servant,  and  to  be  forced  to  eat 
in  the  kitchen  with  Bridget  Malone  and  Ann 
McCarty,  chafed  his  pride  terribly. 

Every  Sunday  Hiram  harnessed  a  pair  of  superb 
black  horses  into  a  costly,  soft-cushioned  carriage, 
and  drove  the  Harrington  family  to  church.  While 
they  were  worshiping  within,  he  waited  outside, 
or  rode  slowly  around  the  streets  to  pass  away  the 
time,  but  was  always  promptly  back,  when  the  con- 
gregation dispersed,  to  take  them  home. 

Month  after  month  went  by.  Bitter  feelings,  in 
the  meantime,  had  gained  mastery  in  Hiram 


Hiram  Lyndes  Experiment.  173 

Lynde's  heart,  and  angry  mutterings  were  often  on 
his  lips,  which  he  found  hard  to  suppress. 

One  fine  morning  he  drove  with  the  Harringtons 
to  church  as  usual.  As  they  slowly  ascended  the 
steps,  and  disappeared  within  the  sanctuary,  a 
strange  light  shone  in  his  eyes,  and,  shaking  his 
hand  fiercely  after  them,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Proud  hypocrites  !  There  they  go  to  worship 
God,  and  advertise  their  fine  fortune,  through  their 
velvets,  silks  and  laces.  They  put  money  into  the 
contribution-box  for  the  poor  with  their  jeweled 
hands  ;  but  nary  a  farthing  do  they  care  for  the 
souls  of  one  of  them.  Nearly  a  year  I've  brought 
them  regularly  to  church,  but  nobody  has  said  a 
word  about  my  going  in.  If  preaching  is  good  for 
them,  why  isn't  it  for  me,  too  ?  Ah,  I'll  try  an 
experiment.  I'll  bring  their  fashionable  religion 
out  into  a  strong  light,  or  prove  it  all  a  sham.  Ha ! 
ha  !  yes,  I  will." 

Four  days  passed.  A  purpose  had  ripened  in 
Hiram's  breast,  and  he  longed  to  put  it  into  execu- 
tion. 

One  morning  as  he  was  weeding  in  Mr.  Harring- 
ton's garden,  he  saw  Joe  Phelps  leaning  against  the 
gate. 

"  Holloa,  Joe !  come  here,"  he  called  pleasantly. 

Joe  skipped  up  the  gravel  walk  to  his  side.  His 
mother  was  a  hard-toiling  widow,  who  earned  a 
scanty  livelihood  for  herself  and  six  children  by 
washing.  Joe's  clothes  were  so  worn  that  great 


Worth  Keeping. 

patches  covered  his  knees  and  elbows,  and  only 
great  skill  in  mending  and  darning  held  them 
together.  Hiram  surveyed  him  closely. 

"  Pretty  poor  clothes  you  wear ;  hardly  fit  for  a 
pauper,"  he  remarked  sneeringly. 

"  They  are  the  best  I  have,"  replied  Joe,  the  hot 
blood  mounting  to  his  face  from  wounded  pride. 

"  Want  a  chance  to  earn  a  new  suit  in  an  easy 
way,  in  one  hour  ? "  asked  Hiram. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Joe,  joyfully. 

"  Joe,  I'll  make  you  a  fair,  square  offer.  Next 
Sunday  morning,  if  you'll  wear  these  same  old 
clothes,  and  be  barefooted  just  as  you  are  now,  and 
go  into  church  just  after  the  Harringtons  get  in, 
and  take  a  seat  in  their  pew  with  them  — it's  num- 
ber 105  —  I'll  give  you  the  best  suit  of  summer 
clothes  in  Darrow's  store." 

"  Oh,  you  are  foolin',"  laughed  Joe. 

"  Never  was  more  serious  in  my  life,"  said  Hiram 
earnestly.  "  I  want  to  mortify  these  purse-proud 
Christians.  I  want  to  see  how  these  big  feeling 
people  will  act,  to  be  in  a  row  with  a  poor  boy, 
half-covered  with  patches  and  darns." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  go  into  their  pew,"  said  Joe 
quickly.  "'Tisn't  using  them  well;  it's  mean." 

"  As  you  please,"  replied  Hiram  indifferently. 
"  There's  plenty  of  other  boys  who'd  jump  at  my 
offer." 

Joe  reflected  a  moment.  "  Yes,  I'll  do  it,"  he 
said  decidedly.  "  Mother  would  have  to  do  a  great 


Hiram  Ly tide's  Experiment.  175 

deal  of  washing  to  get  me  a  summer  suit.  I'll  do 
it  to  save  her ;  but  I  hate  to  awfully." 

When  Sunday  came,  Joe  waited  till  he  saw  the 
elegant  carriage  of  Mark  Harrington  go  by,  and 
then  followed  hard  after  it.  He  reached  the  church 
just  after  the  family  had  entered  it.  Hiram  was 
holding  the  horses  in  front  of  the  steps.  Giving 
the  reins  to  a  friend  standing  by,  he  and  Joseph 
made  their  way  through  the  vestibule,  up  the  stairs 
to  the  inner  door.  Here  Hiram  waited,  and 
watched,  with  a  chuckling  heart,  the  boy  as  he 
timorously  went  through  the  broad  aisle  till 
he  came  to  pew  number  105.  Mr.  Harrington  was 
sitting  at  the  foot,  and  Joe  slipped  in  by  him,  and 
sat  down  between  him  and  his  daughter  Helen, 
while  the  faces  of  both  showed  great  surprise. 

"  That  was  capitally  done,"  thought  Hiram  exult- 
ingly.  "  Joe  is  a  trump  anywhere.  Now  the  rich 
and  poor  sit  side  by  side,  and  in  God's  eyes  one  is 
no  better  than  the  other." 

On  their  way  home,  the  odd  incident  of  Joseph 
Phelps's  sitting  uninvited  in  their  pew  was  glibly 
discussed  by  the  Harringtons. 

"  Poor  boy,"  said  Miss  Helen,  pityingly,  "  it  is 
plain  his  starved  soul  is  reaching  out  for  something 
higher.  We  must  encourage  and  help  him." 

"  But  it  was  so  funny  to  see  him  pop  down  by 
you.  I  thought  I  should  laugh  outright,"  said  Miss 
Fannie. 

Hiram  listened  in  astonishment.     No  word  of 


176  Worth  Keeping. 

indignation  or  mortification  came  from  the  lips 
of  these  he  had  called  fashionable  Christians.  His 
plan  to  humble  their  pride  had  failed. 

On  Monday,  Joseph  came  around  to  receive  the 
promised  remuneration  for  his  service.  Hiram  was 
true  to  his  word,  and  gave  him  a  good  summer  suit 
of  clothes,  which  made  him  very  happy.  Towards 
evening  Joseph  Phelps  received  a  notice,  through 
Bridget  Malone,  the  cook,  that  her  master,  Mark 
Harrington,  wished  to  see  him. 

He  entered  that  gentleman's  presence  trem- 
blingly. He  had  committed  a  grave  offense  by 
taking  a  seat  beside  him  uninvited,  and  he  was  in 
quivering  expectation  of  being  accused  of  it. 

"  Joseph,  did  you  enjoy  hearing  Mr.  Catlin  preach 
yesterday  ? "  asked  Mr.  Harrington  with  an  amused 
smile. 

"No  —  yes  —  I  guess  I  did  —  I  don't  know,  sir," 
was  the  stammering  reply,  with  wild,  frightened 
eyes,  and  a  face  spotted  like  an  adder.  A  low 
giggle  came  from  Miss  Fannie,  who  was  sitting  in 
the  bay  window  with  Miss  Helen.  "  Do  you  want 
to  keep  on  going  to  church  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Harring- 
ton, kindly  and  encouragingly. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  you  shall.  I'll  give  you  an  order  to  take 
to  Mr.  Darrow,  and  you  may  select  such  a  suit  of 
clothes  as  you  need,  and  I'll  pay  for  them."  A 
joyful  light  bounded  into  Joseph's  eyes. 

" Father,"  said  Miss   Helen,  "he'll  need  a  hat, 


Hiram  Lyndes  Experiment.  177 

and  boots,  stockings  and  handkerchief.  Let  me 
get  him  these,"  and  turning  to  Joseph  she  inquired  : 
"  How  would  you  like  to  go  into  Mr.  Crawford's 
class  of  boys  in  the  Sunday  school  ? " 

"  Oh,  very  much,  ma'am,"  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  I'll  ask  him  to  receive  you." 

"  I  own  a  pew,  number  forty,  in  the  gallery,"  said 
Mr.  Harrington.  "  You  can  have  a  seat  there. 
You  are  a  good  boy.  All  you  need  is  a  chance  to 
rise  in  the  wor]d,  Joseph." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  sir.  Thank  you,  Miss 
Harrington.  I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness  ; 
never,  never,  NEVER  ;  "  and  with  gratitude  shining 
in  his  eyes  he  left  the  house. 

Twenty-four  hours  after,  Joseph  appeared  before 
Hiram  Lynde  dressed  in  his  best. 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  pauper  now  ?  "  he  questioned 
proudly. 

"  No  ;  you  look  like  a  gentleman's  son.  Where 
did  you  get  all  those  new  clothes  ? " 

"  Mr.  Harrington  gave  me  this  suit ;  and  Miss 
Helen  gave  me  my  hat,  stockings  and  boots  ;  and 
I'm  going  to  keep  on  going  to  church,  and  am 
going  into  the  Sunday  school." 

"  By  jingo  ;  this  beats  all  creation  !  "  exclaimed 
the  amazed  Hiram. 

"  I'm  in  luck,"  went  on  Joseph  gayly.  "  You 
gave  me  a  suit  of  clothes  for  sitting  in  Mr.  Har- 
rington's pew,  and  they've  given  me  another.  It 
was  a  tip-top  bargain  you  made  with  me." 


178  Worth  Keeping. 

"  It's  cost  me  half  a  month's  wages ; "  responded 
Hiram.  "Well,  they've  done  handsomely  by  you; 
that's  a  fact.  They  never  took  no  more  notice  of 
me  than  if  I'd  been  a  worm.  I  thought  their 
religion  was  all  a  sham.  Well,  my  experiment 
didn't  humble  them,  after  all;  it  just  set  'em  up 
higher." 

This  conversation  had  a  listener  least  expected. 

Miss  Helen  was  standing  behind  a  spruce  tree, 
and  every  word  came  straight  to  her  ears.  She 
went  into  the  house  and  faithfully  reported  them. 
"  'Twas  a  trick  of  Hiram's,"  she  said.  "  He  wanted 
to  prove  our  profession.  We  haven't  been  kind 
and  considerate  enough  of  him.  He  is  a  good 
man,  and  we  ought  to  treat  him  differently  —  just 
as  if  we  were  in  his  place,  and  he  in  ours." 

Hiram  Lynde's  experiment  proved  highly  bene- 
ficial in  three  ways.  He  learned  by  it  that  "  fash- 
ionable Christians "  even,  who  wear  velvet,  silks, 
and  jewels,  have  often  noble  hearts  which  beat  in 
helpful  sympathy  for  the  needy.  It  was  the  means 
of  introducing  Joseph  Phelps  to  Mr.  Harrington 
and  his  family,  and  they  ever  after  took  a  deep 
interest  in  his  welfare.  Finally,  it  revealed  to  the 
Harringtons  the  duty  of  being  more  considerate 
towards  those  serving  them,  and  the  lesson  was 
never  forgotten. 

On  sped  the  years,  bringing  many  changes. 
Hiram  Lynde  is  a  respected,  useful  man.  By  care 
fully  saving  his  earnings,  and  the  loan  of  a  few 


Never  and  No  More.  179 

hundred  dollars  from  Mr.  Harrington,  he  has  been 
able  to  purchase  a  fine  little  farm,  which  made  him 
very  happy. 

Joseph  Phelps  is  a  successful  merchant.  He  is 
always  loyal  to  the  right,  a  light  in  his  church  and 
a  blessing  wherever  he  goes. 


NEVER  AND  NO  MORE. 


NOT  death  himself 

Hath  hands  so  flinty,  and  so  freezing  cold, 
As  hath  this  never.     Over  what  was  ours 
Death  leaves  with  most  of  us  a  dim  perhaps 
That  floats  through  silence,  undefined  in  form, 
Tormenting  Fancy,  not  destroying  Hope. 
No  More  !     Intense  is  this  in  awfulness  ; 
But  its  dread  fiat  not  to  be  revoked  — 
That  death,  or  circumstance,  that  living  death, 
Must  put  an  endless  end  to  all  most  dear  — 
Is  far  less  terrible  than  Never's  is, 
Because  the  very  more  implies  the  once. 
Never  is  merciless  beyond  compare, 
Because  the  precious  once  dies  in  his  clutch, 
That  once  which  makes  the  always  of  great  souls. 
Somewhere  in  every  heart  the  Never  strikes, 
Dealing  a  death-blow  to  some  begging  wish ; 
If  for  an  object  that  is  loved  as  life, 
It  is  as  though  importunate  desire 
Were  the  undying  soul  of  dying  Hope 
Whose  body  this  relentless  Never  kills, 
Leaving  its  spirit  in  eternal  thirst. 


180  Worth  Keeping. 


MIRACLES. 


T  is  one  of  the  curious  phases  of  modern 
opinion,  that  men  who  are  foremost  in 
their  demand  for  actual  facts,  and  in  their 
defense  of  the  Baconian  method  which  requires 
that  all  prejudices  be  removed,  and  the  actual  facts 
of  observation  be  accepted,  whatever  they  may  be, 
should  also,  when  the  fact  of  a  miracle  is  in  ques- 
tion, be  equally  forward  to  deny  it,  because  a  cer- 
tain theory  of  nature  which  they  have  come  to 
entertain  makes  a  miracle  impossible.  But  such  a 
theory  not  only  contradicts  the  true  method  of 
scientific  inquiry,  but  it  contradicts  itself,  as  can  be 
seen  by  any  one  whose  eyes  are  clear.  For,  to  say 
that  a  miracle  is  impossible  because  contrary  to  the 
facts  of  my  experience,  is  absurd,  unless  the  facts 
of  my  experience  embrace  all  the  possible  facts  of 
any  experience,  to  claim  which  would  be  a  greater 
absurdity  still. 

Again,  to  say  that  no  such  fact  as  a  miracle  can 
be,  because  certain  other  facts,  which  I  have  learned 
from  this  source  and  that,  and  which  I  am  pleased 
to  call  "  the  order  of  nature,"  forbids  it,  leads  one 
to  ask  for  a  more  precise  designation  of  this  order 


Miracles.  181 

of  nature,  and  for  the  proof  that  it  actually  exists. 
This  proof  must  either  rest  within  the  field  of  our 
experience,  that  is,  it  must  be  a  proof  to  which  our 
experience  actually  testifies,  or  one  respecting 
which  our  experience  has  no  witness  whatever. 
But  our  experience,  at  the  farthest,  only  testifies  to 
that  which  is,  and  never  reaches  to  that  which  can 
be.  If  my  experience  contain  nothing  miraculous, 
I  may  of  course  deny  the  existence  of  a  miracle  so 
far  as  my  experience  reaches,  and  if  my  judgments 
rest  only  on  what  I  have  experienced,  that  is,  if 
they  be  only  inferences  from  what  I  actually  see,  I 
am  not  entitled  to  make  any  affirmations  respect- 
ing what  lies  beyond  ;  and  that  a  miracle  has  not 
taken  place  in  another  experience  than  my  own,  is 
quite  out  of  my  province  to  say.  The  moment  I 
make  such  a  sweeping  assertion  as  to  affirm  or  deny 
anything  universal,  I  must  leave  the  ground  of  my 
experience,  which  is  necessarily  partial  and  limited, 
and  take  my  stand  on  a  basis  back  of  experience 
and  reaching  beyond  it.  But  such  a  groundwork 
lies  also  back  of  nature,  and  inevitably  leads  the 
thought  into  the  living  presence  of  the  supernatural. 
Our  natural  science  is  fond  of  its  generalizations, 
but  no  generalization  is  possible  without  the  super- 
natural. It  is  an  unmeaning  babble  to  talk  of  com- 
prehensive laws,  unless  there  be  a  comprehending 
reason  and  will,  whose  ideas  and  plans  these  laws 
express.  The  current  notion  in  some  quarters, 
that  we  can  gain,  or  have  perchance  got,  such 


1 82  Worth  Keeping. 

universal  conclusions  that  nature  can  be  shut  in 
upon  itself  and  God  shutout,  is  exactly  the  absurdity 
of  supposing  that  we  see  when  we  have  closed  our 
eyes,  and  turned  the  very  light  of  all  our  seeing 
into  darkness.  Every  process  of  the  human  mind 
bears  witness  to  the  Divine  Mind.  Every  thought 
we  can  have  of  nature,  when  profoundly  questioned 
is  seen  to  rest  upon  the  knowledge,  undoubting  and 
universal,  that  nature  has  its  living  author,  its  spir- 
itual creator.  But  cannot  He  who  has  made  nature 
also  unmake  it  if  He  will,  or  order  in  it  whatever 
changes  He  may  please  ?  And  if  men  who  did  not 
like  to  retain  God  in  their  thoughts,  professing 
themselves  to  be  wise,  became  fools,  because  that 
when  they  knew  God  they  glorified  Him  not  as 
God,  neither  were  thankful,  but  became  vain  in 
their  imaginations,  and  their  foolish  hearts  were 
darkened ;  what  is  to  hinder  Him,  if  His  love 
impels  it,  from  making  such  changes  in  nature  as 
shall  more  conspicuously  manifest  Himself,  and 
more  gloriously  carry  forward  the  eternal  purpose 
for  which  He  hath  created  all  things  by  Jesus 
Christ  ? 

Such  changes  are  miracles.  They  are  not  con- 
tradictions to  nature,  but  they  are  the  carrying  of 
nature  upward  to  a  higher  plane,  and  onward  to 
grander  results  than  nature,  in  its  unhindered 
action,  alone  could  reach.  They  are  not  to  be  con- 
sidered as  violations  of  the  order  of  nature ;  rather 
are  they  the  cropping  out  in  nature  of  the  higher 


Miracles.  183 

order  of  the  supernatural,  without  which  the  so- 
called  order  of  nature  would  be  but  an  empty 
ohaos ;  they  are  rifts  in  the  clouds  of  the  earth's 
atmosphere,  through  which  the  glories  of  the 
heavens,  which  make  the  clouds  resplendent,  and 
the  earth  radiant,  can  shine.  They  are  not  the  new 
development  of  some  old  force  which  had  been  in 
nature  from  the  beginning,  but  they  are  a  new  cre- 
ation by  which  new  forces,  henceforth  to  work  in 
harmony  with  the  old,  are  added  to  these.  Surely 
such  changes  are  possible  for  God  to  make. 
Surely,  He  who  hath  created  once,  can  do  it  also 
again.  Surely,  if  the  inspiration  of  genius  may 
sometimes  light  up  the  human  face  with  a  glow 
which  shows  the  glory  of  the  soul  beyond  all  ordi- 
nary thoughts ;  if  the  light  of  love  may  sometimes 
lend  a  luster  to  the  eye  through  which  there  shines 
a  look  of  beauty  before  unknown — much  more 
may  the  aspect  of  the  things  which  are  made,  in 
which  the  eternal  Power  and  Godhead  of  their 
Maker  have  from  the  creation  of  the  world  been 
clearly  seen,  take  on  some  altogether  new  expres- 
sion, and  become  radiant  with  a  glory  all  undiscov- 
ered before  ;  when  He  would  reveal  through  them 
also  His  forgiving  and  renewing  love.  Surely  all 
this  is  possible,  and  miracles,  instead  of  being  irra- 
tional and  inconceivable,  are  the  very  beauty  of 
reason,  and  the  very  light  of  our  thoughts  respect- 
ing nature,  when  they  are  correctly  apprehended. 
Creation  itself  is  a  miracle.  The  most  recent 


184  Worth  Keeping. 

science,  in  the  profound  mathematical  demonstra- 
tions of  Clausius  respecting  the  mechanical  theory 
of  heat,  has  shown,  on  scientific  grounds  alone,  the 
need  of  some  higher  power  than  nature,  in  order 
to  its  origination,  and  therefore  miracles  cannot  be 
impossible  at  any  stage  of  nature's  continuance. 

The  only  proper  attitude  towards  this  question, 
and  the  only  truly  scientific  method,  is  to  inquire 
whether  such  occurrences  have  actually  taken 
place  —  an  inquiry  whose  answer  is  only  to  be 
gained  through  a  careful  sifting  of  the  evidence 
which  declares  them.  If  we  find  wonders  reported 
which  turn  out  to  be  no  miracles,  but  only  delu- 
sions of  witchcraft  and  magic,  these  no  more  mili- 
tate against  the  reality  of  miracles,  than  does  an 
abundance  of  counterfeits  against  the  reality  of 
genuine  coin.  If  we  find  some  miracles  reported 
for  which  the  evidence  fails,  this  no  more  precludes 
our  finding  others  of  undoubted  verity,  than  do 
false  statements  in  other  matters  prevent  us  from 
learning  anything  true.  Let  the  quality  of  the 
reported  miracle  and  its  evidence  be  sifted  to 
the  utmost,  and  while  we  reject  nothing  from  pre- 
conceived skepticism,  let  nothing  be  taken  in  cred- 
ulous superstition.  Let  the  eye  be  open  and  clear, 
and  the  heart  receptive  and  responsive  only  to  the 
truth,  and  if  miracles  are  proved  by  sufficient  tes- 
timony to  have  taken  place,  the  wise  man  will 
accept  them,  and  follow  their  conclusions,  whatever 
these  may  be. 


A  Funeral  Scene.  185 


A  FUNERAL  SCENE. 


[!HEY  said  she  was  dead.  We  knew  she  had 
been  dying  the  last  twenty-four  hours ;  but 
she  had  always  looked  such  a  picture  of 
health  and  activity,  that  in  this  case  death  seemed 
almost  impossible.  Not  yet  fifty  years  old,  she  was 
known  probably  to  more  people  in,  and  out  of  town, 
than  any  other  of  her  sex  among  us.  Refinement 
and  elegance  characterized  her  home,  and  she  was 
the  center  of  its  attractions.  Six  children,  some 
already  with  families  of  their  own,  called  her 
mother ;  and  one  of  them  spoke  the  feeling  of  oth- 
ers in  similar  circumstances  in  the  remark  that 
when  she  died  it  seemed  as  though  everything 
must  stop ;  and  yet  the  world  moved  on  all  the 
same. 

Four  months  she  had  suffered,  though  with  little 
foreshadowing  of  a  fatal  result  till  within  a  few 
weeks.  But  she  had  grown  worse  and  worse,  and 
now  the  end  had  come.  At  first  she  had  drawn 
back,  instinctively ;  but  soon  she  came  to  feel  that 
God's  way  was  right.  Then  letting  go  her  hold 
upon  earth,  and  with  a  personal  faith  in  Christ  as 
her  Saviour,  she  calmly  set  her  face  heavenward. 


1 86  Worth  Keeping. 

Life  certainly  had  attractions  for  her,  if  for  any- 
body ;  and  no  one,  perhaps,  .knows  how  hard  she 
found  it  to  give  them  up.  But  at  length  she  did 
this,  and  did  it  cheerfully ;  thus  verifying  the  say- 
ing of  the  apostle :  "  I  can  do  all  things  through 
Christ  which  strengtheneth  me." 

The  spacious  house  was  thronged  at  the  funeral 
service.  The  Ladies'  Benevolent  Society,  the  Sab- 
bath school,  the  choir,  and  various  other  social 
assemblies,  had  often  gathered  in  that  hospitable 
home;  but  never  before  such  a  meeting  as  this. 
Many  came  from  out  of  town,  and  from  the  various 
walks  in  life,  public  and  private ;  for  the  sympathy 
and  esteem  of  all  could  center  upon  this  stricken 
household. 

The  family  remained  up  stairs.  The  casket, 
with  an  ample  background  of  flowers,  was  placed 
in  the  bay  window,  two  of  the  pall-bearers  standing 
at  its  head  and  two  at  its  foot.  A  lyre,  crosses, 
beautiful  wreaths,  a  sickle,  and  various  other 
emblems,  made  up  the  floral  tribute,  which  was  all 
that  taste  and  love  could  suggest.  First  came  the 
Scripture  reading ;  then  an  address  from  a  former 
pastor  and  life-long  neighbor,  who  had  written 
out  his  words,  not  daring  to  trust  his  emotions. 
Another  pastor  and  friend  of  the  family  followed 
with  remarks  and  prayer.  The  chanting  of  the 
twenty-third  psalm  and  an  appropriate  song  by  a 
quartette  were  also  in  the  service  ;  and,  in  closing, 
the  assembly  joined  in  one  verse  of  the  hymn : 
"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee." 


A  Funeral  Scene.  187 

The  congregation  was  requested  to  retire  after 
viewing  the  remains.  The  family  then  came  down 
and  were  alone  with  their  dead ;  and  who  can  think 
of  such  a  scene  and  such  a  parting  without  a  feel- 
ing of  solemnity  and  awe  ?  It  is  a  mystery  how 
the  custom  of  looking  for  the  last  time  upon  the 
faces  of  our  beloved  dead  in  the  presence  of  a 
throng,  either  at  home  or  at  the  church,  can  have 
prevailed  so  long  here  in  New  England. 

The  family  passed  quietly  out  to  their  carriages, 
the  pall-bearers  deposited  the  remains  tenderly  in 
the  hearse  at  the  door/ and  the  procession  moved 
on  to  the  city  of  the  dead.  At  the  grave  the  voice 
of  prayer  was  again  raised,  and  the  benediction  pro- 
nounced, followed  by  a  suppressed  "  Amen  "  from 
the  sorrowing  group.  Then  was  addressed  to  the 
pall-bearers,  with  trembling  voice,  the  charge :  "  I 
commit  to  you,  my  friends,  these  precious  remains, 
to  see  that  they  are  properly  buried;"  and  the 
mourning  circle  slowly  reentered  their  carriages. 
The  casket  was  placed  in  its  box  and  lowered  to  its 
last  resting-place.  The  bearers  remained  to  see 
the  grave  filled  and  to  arrange  the  flowers,  which 
covered  it  to  the  full ;  and  then  with  the  remark : 
"  We  can  do  nothing  more,"  they  also  withdrew, 
leaving  the  dead  in  the  loneliness  of  the  narrow 
house. 

This  husband  and  wife  had  grown  up  in  one 
another's  affections  almost  from  childhood.  The 
family  had  been  a  model  of  unity  and  the  domestic 


1 88  Worth  Keeping. 

joys,  and  I  can  hardly  imagine  an  instance  where 
family  ties  are  stronger,  and  where  such  an  in- 
road upon  the  home  circle  would  be  a  keener 
and  more  terrible  bereavement;  and  yet  this  grief 
seemed  to  be  kept  well  under  control.  It  certainly 
did  not  show  itself  in  any  tumultuous  way,  but  was 
calm  and  subdued,  though  with  most  unmistakable 
indications  of  such  a  depth  and  burden  of  sorrow 
as  the  heart  feels  only  seldom  in  a  lifetime. 

Skeptics  may  ask  their  troublesome  questions  in 
regard  to  the- resurrection,  as  to  what  shall  rise, 
and  how  it  can  be  that  we  are  to  see  the  same 
body;  but  those  who  are  firmly  anchored  in  the 
truths  of  God's  word,  while  they  may  not  be  able 
to  answer  in  detail  all  these  cavils,  will,  neverthe- 
less, with  unshaken  confidence,  believe  what  God 
has  revealed,  and  see  no  occasion  whatever  for  a 
shadow  of  doubt  that  the  being  who  can  create 
a  world  can  also  recreate  man  in  another  sphere  of 
life.  Paul  has  told  us  as  clearly  as  any  of  the  mod- 
ern skeptics,  that  it  will  not  be  that  body  which  is 
here  laid  away  in  the  grave ;  and  all  we  need  now 
to  know  is  that  the  identity  is  in  some  way  to  be 
preserved,  and  that  somehow  the  same  principle  of 
life,  in  the  same  person,  is  to  come  forth  in  a  new 
form  beyond  the  grave. 


The  Ruling  Fashion  in  Death.  189 


THE  RULING  FASHION  IN  DEATH. 


" '  My  young  master  in  London  is  dead ! '  said  Obadiah. 
A  green  satin  night-gown  of  my  mother's,  which  had  been 
twice  scoured,  was  the  first  idea  which  Obadiah's  exclama- 
tion brought  into  Susannah's  head."  — Sterne. 


| HAT  woman,  in  any  position  or  rank  of 
social  life,  rich  or  poor,  mistress  or  maid, 
has  not  felt  Susannah's  "  first  idea  "  irre- 
sistibly pressing  upon  her  wounded  spirit  in  the 
first  moments  of  her  grief  for  a  loved  one  just 
gone  ?  What  woman,  weeping  in  silence  under  the 
shadow  of  this  great  affliction,  has  not  felt  it  deep- 
ened and  blackened  by  the  vision  of  sable  millinery, 
which  a  pagan  fashion  prescribes  as  a  public  dress 
for  her  sorrow  ?  Pagan  fashion?  No;  it  cannot 
be  charged  to  a  heathen  lineage  or  custom.  It  is 
the  outcome  of  our  Christian  civilization  in  these 
latter  days  of  elegant  shows  and  costly  preten- 
sions. 

Is  there  enough  of  working  vitality  in  the  Chris- 
tian life  of  this  boastful  generation  to  lift  these 
heavy  and  grievous  burdens  from  the  house  of 
God  and  the  house  of  the  dead?  See  how 


190  Worth  Keeping. 

they  grow  upon  both,  making  it  more  and  more 
costly  for  a  humble  Christian  to  live  and  to  die. 
Already  the  church  and  the  cemetery  have  become 
the  two  great  rival  centers  of  modern  fashion,  and 
the  undertaker's  and  milliner's  shops  well  stocked 
feeders  for  both.  The  church  of  today  is  the 
most  attractive  center  of  fashion.  It  is  filled, 
unlike  the  opera  or  theater,  with  a  permanent, 
almost  unchanging  congregation  of  men,  women 
and  children,  mostly  known  to  each  other  in  week- 
day life,  and  more  susceptible  of  the  desire  and 
tendency  to  imitate,  emulate,  and  even  to  provoke 
each  other  to  envy  in  matters  of  dress  and  fash- 
ion, than  is  the  case  with  the  varying  and  inciden- 
tal company  assembled  at  a  theatrical  performance 
or  place  of  general  amusement.  Indeed,  it  may  be 
said  within  the  truth,  that  all  the  varying  styles 
of  dress  for  men,  women  and  children  have  more 
reference  to  the  church  as  their  show-room  than  to 
all  other  places  and  persons  put  together. 

Thus,  religious  worship  in  the  house  of  God  has 
become  one  of  the  most  highly  taxed  luxuries  in 
every  one  of  our  growing  and  populous  towns. 
Even  our  smart  little  villages  are  ambitious  to 
follow  city  models,  and  do  not  think  of  building  a 
church  under  the  cost  of  $50,000  or  $60,000. 
Then,  probably  owing  half  that  amount  for  it  at  its 
opening,  they  must  have  a  minister  of  as  nearly 
city  grade  and  salary  as  possible,  whose  talent, 
genius,  and  ardent  devotion  shall  fill  the  house 


The  Ruling  Fashion  in  Death.  191 

with  the  most  well-to-do  of  the  village,  who  can  pay 
as  well  as  appreciate  such  sermons  and  services. 
Then  the  choir  must  correspond  with  the  pulpit, 
in  a  quartette,  or  at  least  in  a  paid  organist,  tenors 
and  sopranos.  The  pews  must  pay  it  all,  and  a 
whole  one  needed  by  a  journeyman  mechanic  for 
himself  and  family  will  cost  him  as  much  yearly 
rent  as  his  house  and  garden  before  the  war ;  un- 
less he  takes  one  below  the  respectable  line,  and 
thereby  shows  every  Sunday  his  lower  social  posi- 
tion. 

But  suppose,  with  his  wife  and  three  children, 
he  takes  a  fifty-dollar  pew,  that  is,  rents  a  second 
house  to  worship  in  once  a  week,  a  still  heavier  tax 
awaits  him.  Fashion,  with  all  its  quickly  varying 
and  costly  church  styles,  meets  him  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  sacred  and  elegant  building.  This  is  the 
last  ounce  that  breaks  or  bends  the  back  of  his 
ability.  Fashion  has  got  him  fast  now.  By  great 
economy  or  additional  industry  he  might  stand  a 
fifty-dollar  pew,  and  apparently  rank  with  his  better- 
to-do  neighbors.  But  he  cannot  bear  this  straining 
burden  of  the  pew  and  keep  even  with  them  with 
the  still  heavier  load  of  dress  to  equal  their  styles. 
Here  he  must  fall  back  into  the  rear.  He  and  his 
family  must  wear  to  church  every  Sunday,  not  the 
"  scarlet  letter  "  of  poverty,  but  an  expressive  badge 
of  their  inferior  position.  We  may  blame  him  for 
this  sensibjlity,  and  call  it  pride,  but  not  meanness. 
It  is  a  feeling  that  we  cannot  dissociate  from 


192  Worth  Keeping. 

manliness,  which  no  community  can  afford  to  con- 
temn or  ignore.  Nor  can  we  less  admire  and  love 
our  country  because  in  no  other  one  on  the  globe 
is  this  sensibility  of  working  men  so  vivid  and  so 
easily  touched.  It  is  this  sensitiveness,  more  than 
all  other  causes  put  together,  that  excludes  so  many 
thousands  of  that  class  from  the  churches  in  our 
large  towns. 

Thus  we  have  the  impressive  fact  before  us,  that 
here,  even  in  our  religious  New  England,  there  is 
no  town  of  ten  thousand  inhabitants  that  has  room 
in  all  its  churches  for  over  half  its  population. 
Still  they  are  not  filled  by  the.  other  half.  The 
supply  follows  the  demand,  but  the  demand  for 
such  a  highly  taxed  luxury  as  religious  worship  in 
a  costly  and  elegant  church,  is  not  forthcoming, 
nor  is  it  expected  when  such  churches  are  built. 

Well,  the  workingman  can,  and  does  in  thous- 
ands of  cases,  refuse  to  buy  a  pew  or  sit  in  a  char- 
ity seat.  He  may,  and  often  does,  turn  his  back 
upon  a  fashionable  church  ;  but  he  cannot  turn  his 
back  upon  a  fashionable  grave.  There  is  no  dis- 
charge for  him  from  that  condition.  He  must  buy 
a  family  pew  in  the  cemetery ;  and  when  his  soul  is 
aflow  on  the  flood-tide  of  its  sorrow,  the  fashion  of 
a  modern  funeral  envelops  it  and  him  with  its 
costly  trappings  and  symbols  of  grief.  His  hands 
are  hard  with  factory  toil,  but  his  heart  is  too  soft 
to  measure  his  means  against  that  debt  which 
others  may  think  he  owes  to  his  dead.  What  if 


The  Ruling  Fashion  in  Death.  193 

they  should  say  that  he  thought  of  money  at  such 
an  hour;  that  he  kept  back  part  of  what  was  due 
to  the  worth  and  memory  of  his  dead  wife,  son,  or 
daughter !  No ;  the  sorrow  of  his  broken  spirit  is 
a  luxury  which  he  must  pay  for,  to  those  who  wit- 
ness it.  He  would  not  rent  a  fifty-dollar  pew  in 
the  church,  but  he  feels  that  he  must  now  buy  a 
fifty-dollar  coffin  for  the  dead  mother  of  his  chil- 
dren; then  he  must  hire  the  regulation  number  of 
hacks  for  the  real  and  professional  mourners.  The 
undertaker  alone  can  tell  him  how  many  hacks 
should  go  to  a  fifty-dollar  coffin.  Then,  although  a 
cheap  weed  of  grief  will  do  for  his  own  hat,  he 
must  put  his  daughters  each  in  an  entire  mourning 
dress. 

The  funeral  is  over;  he  has  complied  in  full  with 
the  unwritten  rules  of  mourning  which  the  city 
customs  of  religious  sentiment  prescribe.  He  goes 
back  to  his  shop  or  factory  and  tries  to  work  off 
the  debt  to  the  doctor  and  undertaker  in  the  course 
of  two  years,  besides  supporting  the  residue  of  his 
family.  But  when  he  has  paid  the  last  dollar  of 
the  two  bills,  he  has  not  done  with  the  costly 
fashions  of  the  grave.  The  memory  of  the  dear 
one  gone  grows  more  and  more  tender  in  his  heart, 
as  he  misses  the  light  of  that  life  in  his  own.  And 
memory  is  a  costly  luxury  which  must  be  paid  for, 
especially  to  the  visitors  to  the  cemetery,  who 
never  spoke  to  his  wife  while  living,  and  have  for- 
gotten that  she  is  dead.  In  a  certain  sense  and 


IQ4  Worth  Keeping. 

aspect,  the  modern  cemetery  is  a  more  visible 
and  permanent  center  of  fashion  than  the  church. 
The  pews  of  the  silent  congregation  cost  more 
than  its  sittings.  The  social  status  of  their  holders 
is  marked  by  more  pronounced  distinctions.  The 
best  pew  in  a  fifty-thousand  dollar  church  will  not 
cost  its  richest  worshiper  more  than  one  hundred 
dollars  annual  rent.  He  cannot  make  a  great  show 
of  his  wealth  in  his  pew  with  any  special  upholstery, 
but  he  can  do  it  in  the  cemetery  to  the  full  bent  of 
his  ambition.  He  erects  a  thousand  or  two  thousand 
dollar  monument  over  his  family  grave.  He  sets 
running  a  competitive  race  of  social  distinction 
among  the  grave-stones,  high  and  low.  Our  jour- 
neyman mechanic  feels  that  he  must  yield  to  the 
impulse.  He  has  paid  the  doctor  and  undertaker, 
and  now  he  must  talk  with  the  stone-cutter.  He 
would  stand  well  with  public  sentiment  and  custom. 
He  would  not  be  niggard  towards  a  memory  so 
dear  to  him.  He  agrees  with  the  stone-cutter  that 
a  fifty-dollar  monument  is  cheap  enough  for  a  fifty- 
dollar  coffin  and  twelve  hacks ;  so  he  orders  one  of 
that  size  and  price  for  the  grave  of  his  wife. 

Now,  are  not  these  things  so  ?  And  is  there  no 
help  for  them  ?  In  every  one  of  our  cities  and 
larger  towns  we  see  how  the  cost  of  Christian  life 
and  death,  of  the  pew  and  the  grave,  is  constantly 
increasing.  Said  a  poor  German  mother  to  me, 
while  dwelling  upon  the  loveliness  of  a  daughter 
she  had  buried :  "  We  gave  her  a  hundred  and 


The  Ruling  Fashion  in  Death.  195 

sixteen  dollar  funeral."  Said  a  minister,  with  a  sal- 
ary of  two  thousand  dollars  :  "  If  my  wife  should  die 
in  New  York,  and  I  should  bury  her  in  Greenwood 
cemetery  with  a  funeral  befitting  my  position, 
measured  by  public  sentiment  or  custom,  it  would 
cripple  me  for  life."  Is  it  not  time  for  thoughtful 
Christian  men  and  women  to  come  to  the  rescue  of 
the  Christian  church  and  the  Christian  grave  from 
the  thraldom  of  fashions  and  customs  that  put  such 
bars  and  burdens  upon  both. 


196  Worth  Keeping. 


SOME  NEEDLESS  ASPERITIES  OF  LIFE. 


JOMEBODY  writing  in  an  English  maga. 
zine,  has  said,  that  the  difference  between 
a  French  and  an  English  home,  of  the 
better  class,  lies  mainly  in  the  manner  in  which 
each  seeks  after  its  highest  ideal  excellence.  In 
the  French  household,  joy,  gayety,  mutual  enter- 
tainment and  the  diversion  of  all,  are  the  objects 
pursued.  In  the  English,  rest,  leisure,  the  gratifi- 
cation of  individual  tastes,  and  the  furtherance  of 
individual  aims,  are  regarded  as  chiefly  important. 
I  have  been  thinking  at  what  points  the  average 
American  home  touches  either  of  these,  and  it 
seems  to  me  not  unfair  to  conclude  that,  commonly, 
neither  rest  nor  joy  set  themselves  before  our  fam- 
ilies as  desirable  ends  to  be  attained.  Success  in 
life,  material  prosperity,  ambition  in  one  or  another 
form,  allure  us  from  our  cradles  onward.  And  our 
homes  are  merely  convenient  stopping  places,  to 
which  we  come  jaded,  from  which  we  go  refreshed, 
as,  like  campaigners  in  an  enemy's  country,  we 
wage  the  incessant  conflict  against  opposing  cir- 
cumstances. Happily  we  are  gradually  awakening 
to  the  fact  that  in  too  much  labor  there  may  be 


Some  Needless  Asperities  of  Life.         197 

folly.  And  the  new  and  generally  diffused  interest 
in  household  art  is  a  good  and  favorable  sign  of  the 
times.  But  the  best  of  all  household  art  is  that 
which  consists  in  making  the  household  at  ease, 
and  pleased  with  itself  and  its  members ;  and  there 
are  still  chairs  waiting  at  many  hearths  for  the 
genial  professors  who  shall  teach  its  alphabet.  A 
home,  especially  here,  where  everybody  possesses 
the  means  of  making  his  abode  at  least  comforta- 
ble, and  therefore  attractive,  should  be  more  than 
a  mere  inn  for  the  feeding  of  hungry  guests,  or  a 
lodging-house,  where  they  may  find  beds  when  they 
are  weary. 

That  it  is  sometimes  no  more  than  this,  is  abun- 
dantly proved  by  observation.  We  see  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  sons  and  daughters,  who  are  in 
haste  to  find  any  shelter,  rather  than  that  of  the 
parental  roof.  We  know  that  people  often  yawn 
by  their  own  firesides,  while  they  are  quite  brilliant 
abroad. 

We  reluctantly  admit  that  sparkle,  flavor  and 
charm,  the  zest  of  life,  is  not  invariably  found,  even 
in  homes  which  are  hallowed  in  the  morning  and  at 
night  by  the  breath  of  sincere  devotion.  We  can- 
not fail  to  see,  that  life  may  be  honest,  honorable, 
useful  and  charitable,  and  withal,  intensely  disa- 
greeable ;  so  that,  till  relieved  from  its  needless 
asperities,  its  cup  at  the  lips  shall  be  bitter,  and  its 
memories  in  the  heart  be  like  bells  out  of  tune. 

Foremost,  among  the  deplorable  distresses  which 


198  Worth  Keeping. 

disturb  domestic  peace,  is  the  vice  of  fault-finding. 
It  matters  very  little  who  the  inveterate  fault-finder 
is.  If  it  be  a  parent,  it  is  rather  worse  than  if  it 
be  one  of  the  children,  for  parents  are  always  enti- 
tled to  respect,  and  nobody  can  satisfactorily  resent 
their  unjust  criticisms.  Perhaps  the  transgressors 
are  almost  unaware  of  the  extent  of  their  sin,  for 
the  bad  habit  of  scolding  began  long  ago,  and 
being  tolerated,  has  become  unconscious.  Men 
and  women  may  scold,  and  scowl,  and  sneer,  and 
yet  believe  themselves  patterns  of  amiability. 
There  are  tables  at  which  the  sauce  to  every  dish  is 
the  same.  The  fish  is  watery,  the  potatoes  are 
soggy,  the  meats  are  over  or  underdone,  the  gravies 
are  burned,  and  the  pastry  is  heavy.  Nothing  is 
right.  At  such  feasts  the  saying  of  grace  is  a  man- 
ifest irony. 

It  may  not  be  a  fault-finder,  but  only  a  melan- 
choly and  moody  young  lady  or  gentleman,  whose 
views  of  the  world  are  all  colored  by  dyspepsia,  or 
hypochondria,  who  manages  to  make  home  gloomy 
and  wretched.  Companionship  with  one  who  is 
morbid  or  cynical,  as  with  one  who  is  often  per- 
verse and  quarrelsome,  occasions  a  friction  which  is 
very  wearing.  In  the  home  afflicted  by  the  pres- 
ence of  any  of  these  unfortunates,  the  days  never 
glide  by.  They  bump  along,  with  a  succession  of 
jolts,  like  springless  carts  over  a  corduroy  road. 
No  wonder  people  lie  down  tired  at  night,  to  waken 
hopeless  in  the  morning,  with  so  much  to  tax 
patience  and  Christian  resignation. 


Some  Needless  Asperities  of  Life.         199 

A  frequent  and  needless  asperity  is  found  in  the 
lack  of  that  sturdy  independence,  which  accepts 
the  situation,  and  adjusts  arrangements  to  it  with 
dignity.  You  cannot  afford  to  dwell  in  a  certain 
street,  nor  to  maintain  a  certain  style,  and  of  this 
you  feel  assured.  Your  income,  provided  your 
expenses  could  be  reduced,  would  amply  suffice  for 
comfort,  while,  as  it  is,  the  prophet's  simile  fits 
your  case  precisely,  for  the  bed  is  too  short,  and  the 
coverlets  are  too  narrow.  It  is  humiliating  to  pride 
to  make  changes  which  will  tell  friends  and  neigh- 
bors that  one  has  been  unfortunate,  or  injudicious; 
and  so  you  go  on,  burdened  with  care,  worried  by 
demands  which  you  cannot  meet,  and  which 
increase  in  proportion  to  your  inability.  Now, 
there  is  neither  sense  nor  wisdom  in  carrying  loads 
which  diminish  strength,  and  add  nothing  to 
growth  in  grace.  All  reasonable  persons  must  be 
convinced,  on  reflection,  that  life  is  too  brief  to 
be  wasted  in  the  struggles  to  keep  up  a  vain  show. 
What  have  we  to  do  with  self-imposed  vexations  ? 
Is  not  the  life  more  than  meat  ?  Shall  it  not  pos- 
sess some  freedom,  some  margin,  some  elasticity  ? 
We  desire  breathing-spaces,  mountain-tops,  room 
for  friends,  and  room  for  our  own  souls,  and  we 
cannot  have  them,  if  the  demon  of  debt  be  forever 
dogging  our  steps. 

Another  source  of  unprofitable  sorrow  arises 
from  fancied  slights  and  neglects,  and  from  small 
misunderstandings.  Too  much  importance  ought 


2OO  Worth  Keeping. 

never  to  be  attached  to  these.  We  should  not  be 
too  sensitive  for  comfort.  We  should  not  too  tena- 
ciously watch  over  our  personal  dignity.  The  trivial 
things  which  destroy  our  composure,  and  invade 
our  peace,  are  pitiful.  An  acquaintance  is  preoc- 
cupied, and  passes  us  with  a  hurried  recognition  on 
the  street;  another  fails  to  return  our  call,  or 
seems  to  prefer  the  society  of  some  one  else  to 
ours,  and  we  are  harrowed  and  hurt.  Jealousy  is 
the  discontent  of  outraged  love,  not  only,  it  is  the 
hateful  child  of  envy  and  covetousness.  It  is  not 
too  mean  to  be  displayed  by  a  petted  animal,  or  by 
an  aggravated  baby.  Ignorant  women  nourish  it 
in  the  breasts  of  little  ones  under  their  care,  not 
dreaming  of  the  harm  they  are  doing.  Through 
the  years  of  a  human  life,  there  can  be  no  passion 
so  allied  to  the  serpent-brood  of  evil,  as  this  half- 
insane  trait  of  jealousy. 

So  often  must  we  sit  beneath  the  shadow,  so 
often  shed  the  tears  of  bereavement  and  regret, 
and  so  often  toil  upward  bearing  the  cross,  that  we 
should  court  no  useless  rigors.  Let  us  always  wel- 
come the  sunshine.  Let  us  be  receptive  to  all 
that  is  gracious  and  winning.  Let  us  be  happy 
ourselves  and  make  others  so.  It  is  the  brave  heart 
which  is  the  cheery  one.  Suffering,  for  suffering's 
sake  only,  is  not  meritorious.  To  shiver  in  a  dun- 
geon, when  there  is  a  south  wind  blowing,  and 
flowers  are  abloom  in  the*  spring  warmth,  is  to 
behave  like  an  idiot,  and  not  like  a  saint.  Count 


Toil  and  Rest.  20 1 

that  day  lost,  in  which  you  have  not  made  a  child 
gladder,  nor  given  a  delight  to  your  beloved,  nor 
blessed  the  mourner  by  your  gentleness.  There 
must  be  offenses,  but  the  Saviour's  words  stand : 
"  Woe  unto  him  by  whom  the  offense  cometh  i  " 


TOIL  AND  REST. 


WHEN  sets  the  weary  sun, 

And  the  long  day  is  done, 
And  starry  orbs  their  solemn  vigils  keep  ; 

When  bent  with  toil  and  care, 

We  breathe  our  evening  prayer, 
God  gently  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. 


And  when  life's  day  shall  close 

In  death's  last  deep  repose, 
When  the  dark  shadows  o'er  the  eyelids  creep ; 

Let  us  not  be  afraid, 

At  this  thick  gathering  shade, 
For  so  God  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. 

To  die  ?  it  is  to  rise 

To  fairer,  brighter  skies, 
Where  death  no  more  shall  his  dread  harvests  reap ; 

To  soar  on  angel  wings, 

Where  life  immortal  springs, 
For  so  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. 


2O2  Worth  Keeping. 


JOSEPH  HERON'S  RESOLUTION. 


"Tell  us  something  that  really  happened." — Boys  and 
Girls. 

"And  so  I  will."  —  Mary  Morrison. 

1OSEPH  Heron  lived  in  Reedsville.  He 
was  a  plain,  freckled-faced  boy,  rather 
small  of  his  age,  and  with  an  unfortunate 
habit  of  stammering.  He  was  a  quiet,  bashful  boy, 
but  faithful  to  his  widowed  mother,  and  industrious 
in  his  school.  There  was  one  trial  Joseph  had, 
which  to  him  was  the  greatest;  this  was  school 
declamation. 

He  had  never  forgotten  how  the  boys  laughed 
that  afternoon  when  he  "  spoke  Casabianca." 

"  The  b-boy  st-st-ood  on  the  b-b-burning  d-deck, 
Whence  all  b-b-ut  him  had  f-f-f— " 

"  I  think  they  must  have  had  hard  work  f-f-lee- 
ing,"  whispered  Bob  Jones,  so  loud  that  Joseph 
could  but  hear,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  his  face. 

Then  Hal  Perkins,  to  whom  the  remark  was 
made,  laughed  aloud,  and  poor  Joe  stopped  discour- 
aged and  went  to  his  seat.  Since  this  first  time, 


Joseph  Herons  Resolution.  203 

his  teacher  had  given  him  private  lessons,  and  he 
had  tried  to  improve ;  he  had  just  begun  to  do 
better,  still  nothing  seemed  so  difficult  to  him  as  to 
declaim. 

The  past  winter  there  had  been  much  religious 
interest  in  the  church  which  Joseph  and  his  mother 
attended,  and  many  of  Joe's  friends  had  made  a 
firm  resolve  to  serve  the  Lord. 

One  night  Joe  went  home  from  prayer-meeting 
and  found  his  mother  sewing,  as  usual,  by  the  little 
kerosene  lamp  in  the  kitchen.  He  went  in,  and, 
drawing  a  low  seat  up  by  her,  said  : 

"  Mother,  dear,  Mr.  Jameson  told  us  to-n-night 
the-the  story  of  Joshua's  resolution.  '  As  for  me 
and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord,'  and  he 
t-told  us  we  m-might  any  of  us  then  and  there 
m-make  the  same  resolution  for  ourselves.  And 
then  he  s-said  to  us,  '  Choose  ye  th-this  day  whom 
ye  will  serve.'  It  seemed  t-to  me  as  if  the  Lord 
was  s-speaking  right  to  m-me,  and  I  thought  the 
people  must  hear  m-my  heart  beat ;  b-but  it  was 
only  a  f-few  m-minutes ;  mother,  I  made  up  my 
mind.  I  chose  ! " 

"  Is  it  possible,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  widow,  as 
the  tears  fell  fast  on  the  unfinished  garment  in  her 
lap ;  "  have  you  chosen  to  serve  the  Lord  ?  " 

"Yes,  mother;  'as  for  m-me,  I  will,'  God  help- 
ing m-me ;  and  what  is  m-more,  to-morrow  n-night 
when  the  minister  calls  on  th-those  who  have 
resolved,  to  t-t-testify  of  their  hopes,  I  m-mean 
to  tell  of  mine." 


2O4  Worth  Keeping. 

"  You  are  not  afraid  of  stammering,  Joe  ?" 

"  No,  m-mother ;  I  feel  sure  th-the  Lord  will 
help  m-me." 

"  But,  my  love,  think  how  hard  it  is  for  you  to 
declaim  at  school ;  and  think  how  much  harder  it 
will  be  to  speak  there." 

"  I'm  n-not  afraid,  mother." 

Truly,  thought  Mrs.  Heron,  this  is  the  grace  of 
God. 

The  next  evening,  at  the  prayer-meeting,  little, 
pale  Mrs.  Heron,  on  the  women's  side,  listened 
tremblingly  for  a  weak,  stammering  voice,  but  the 
one  she  loved  above  all  others  on  earth. 

Mr.  Jameson  said,  when  the  meeting  was  half 
over :  "  I  repeat  the  request  I  made  at  the  begin- 
ning, that  those  who  have  lately  chosen  to  serve 
the  Lord,  testify." 

Joseph  Heron  rose.  Poor  Mrs.  Heron's  heart 
was  in  her  mouth,  and  she  had  hidden  her  face  in 
her  handkerchief.  Joseph,  pale,  resolute,  looked 
about  on  the  assembly  an  instant ;  there  were  the 
boys  who  laughed  at  Casabianca ;  there  was  the 
great  preacher,  at  least  he  seemed  a  "  son  of  thun- 
der "  to  poor  Joe,  and  then  the  people  were  all  so 
still,  nothing  but  the  ticking  of  the  clock  to  be 
heard,  all  waiting  to  hear  him.  Just  then  he  caught 
sight  of  his  mother,  in  deep  black,  bent  over,  her 
face  in  her  hands.  He  took  courage. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said  in  a  full,  clear  voice,  "  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  that  as  for  me  I  will  serve 


Joseph  Heron's  Resolution.  205 

the  Lord.  It  was  only  last  night  that  I  made  this 
resolution,  but  the  day  past  has  been  the  happiest 
of  my  life."  Here,  poor  little  Mrs.  Heron's  hand- 
kerchief fell  from  her  eyes.  Could  this  be  her  Joe  ! 
He  did  not  stammer ;  she  even  took  courage  to 
look. 

Joe  went  on :  "I  want  to  ask  all  my  young 
friends  to  serve  the  Lord  too.  It  is  a  glorious  ser- 
vice, and  the  wages  are  everlasting  life." 

Joseph  sat  dowtf,  and  others  followed ;  but  no 
one  attracted  so  much  interest  as  he.  It  seemed 
as  if  then  and  there  the  Lord  had  wrought  a  mira- 
cle. Every  word  had  been  full,  clear,  and  distinct, 
uttered  without  hesitation.  Even  Joe  himself  was 
as  surprised  as  any  of  them.  But  after  service,  as 
Joe  walked  home  with  his  mother,  his  stammering 
had  returned.  But  when  he  knelt  to  pray  with  her, 
after  reading  the  Bible,  lo,  the  clear,  unhesitating 
voice  came  back. 

"  It  is  the  gift  of  the  Lord,  mother,"  said  Joe. 
"  I  thought  it  would  be  s-so  hard  to  speak  or 
p-pray  in  meeting,  and  I  prayed  to  Him  to  give  me 
strength ;  and  this  is  th-the  way  He  will  do  it.  I 
shall  n-never  be  afraid  now  to  witness  for  Him  in 
the  m-meeting.  He  has  n-not  given  m-me  the 
power  in  every  th-thing,  but  just  f-for  Him.  It  is 
wrong,  I  suppose,  mother ;  but  I  am  troubled  about 
tomorrow.  I  am  afraid  all  the  boys  will  1-laugh  at 
me  and  sneer,  and  ask  me  if  I've  t-taken  to 
e-exhorting." 


2o6  Worth  Keeping. 

"  Yes,  Joseph,"  said  his  mother ;  "  you  are  wrong 
in  being  afraid.  Ask  God  to  help  you,  and  He  will ; 
but  even  if  you  are  '  reproached  for  His  name,'  the 
Bible  says,  '  happy  are  ye.' " 

So  Joseph  went  to  school  the  next  day,  braced 
up  for  an  attack,  but  ready  for  conflict ;  ready,  in 
other  words,  to  take  patiently  any  unkind  or  cruel 
things  that  might  be  said.  His  mother  watched 
for  him  rather  anxiously  at  noon.  The  pine  table 
was  covered  with  a  coarse  brown  linen  cloth,  the 
Indian  mush  was  smoking  in  the  dish,  and  Mrs. 
Heron  was  taking  a  few  stitches  in  her  work,  as 
she  sat  waiting  for  her  son. 

The  door  was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  Joe's 
face,  wreathed  in  smiles,  appeared. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  come,  sit  down,  dinner  is  smok- 
ing hot.  You  have  not  had  a  very  hard  time  to-day, 
have  you  ?  " 

"  I-I-I  don't  know  wh-what  possessed  the 
b-boys,  mother.  They  were  n-never  so  kind  in 
th-their  lives ;  and  wh-what  do  you  th-think  ? 
Hal  Perkins  came  to  m-me,  and  a-asked  my 
p-pardon  for  a-all  his  u-ugliness,  a-and  h-he  says 
he  is  g-going  to  try  and  be  a  Christian,  too,  and 
w-wants  me  to  help  him." 

"  And  it  came  to  pass,"  said  Mrs.  Heron,  " '  when 
Christian  came  near  where  the  lions  were,  behold 
they  were  chained  ! ' ' 


"/  Have  Called  You  Friends"  207 


"  I  HAVE  CALLED  YOU  FRIENDS." 


FROM  the  fine  fret  of  little  care, 

That  gnaweth  bitterly 
Upon  the  soul  grown  sore  to  it, 

I  turn,  O  Christ !  to  Thee. 
O  Thou,  the  Careworn !  can'st  Thou  turn 

As  longingly  to  me  ? 

Worn  with  the  deeper  wear  of  sin 

Graven  on  the  soul  of  me ; 
In  such  a  marred  and  shattered  thing, 

O  perfect  Heart !  can'st  see 
A  nature  fit  by  any  cost 

To  be  a  friend  to  Thee  ? 

% 

Is  that  the  meaning  of  the  Word 

Which  says  Thou  lovest  me  ? 
By  the  deep  stirring  of  my  heart 

In  yearning  after  Thee, 
By  all  the  longing  of  the  life 

That  leaneth  unto  Thee, 

As  human  friend  with  human  friend, 

Can  I  so  think  of  Thee  ? 
Like  human  love  with  human  love 

Will  heavenly  rapture  be  ? 
Such  more  than  human  blessedness 

Be  meant  in  truth  for  me  ! 


208  Worth  Keeping. 


HOW  THE  QUESTION  WAS  ANSWERED. 


JHIS  sketch,  which  aims  to  recall  a  simple 
tale  of  actual  experience,  begins  •  at  a  time 
when  the  writer  was  the  pastor  of  a  church 
in  a  Western  city.    In  a,  certain  circle  of  our  young 

men,  Egbert  L was    the   acknowledged   head 

and  leader.  He  was  a  person  of  active  mind  and 
agreeable  manners.  He  was  a  ready  and  versatile 
talker.  Considerable  reading  of  both  orthodox  and 
skeptical  writers  had  made  him  rather  apt  in  relig- 
ious discussion,  of  which  he  was  fond.  His  seem- 
ingly careful  and  candid  way  of  looking  into  the 
great  questions  of  the  human  soul,  gave  all 
the  greater  plausibility  to  his  opinions  in  the  eyes 
of  his  young  friends  and  admirers.  Though  he 
invariably  took  the  side  of  unbelief,  he  knew  how 
to  keep  his  temper  in  debate,  and  to  treat  even  the 
most  indignant  opponent  with  courtesy.  I  had 
heard  of  him  as  a  person  of  decided  mental  re- 
source, who  was  exerting  a  dangerous  influence 
over  some  young  men  of  my  own  congregation. 
Yet  I  never  sought  him  out.  What  to  do  in  such 
a  case  has  taxed  the  best  wisdom  of  many  an 
anxious  pastor.  Pride  of  opinion  is  so  often  the 


How  the  Question    Was  Answered.        209 

principal  stock  in  trade  of  an  embryo  infidel,  that 
it  becomes  a  serious  question  whether  direct  per- 
sonal effort  will  really  explode  the  bubble,  or  only 
still  further  distend  it.  At  all  events,  whether 
wisely  or  unwisely,  I  did  not  interfere. 

When  at  length  I  was  called  to  unite  Mr.  L 

in  marriage  with  a  young  lady  of  my  flock,  it  did 
not  occur  to  me  even  then  that  any  future  interest 
would  hinge  on  so  ordinary  a  circumstance.  There 
was  indeed  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  the  thought  that 
the  union  which  I  was  thus  called  to  solemnize  had 
not  in  it  that  which  ought  always  to  sweeten  so 
dear  a  bond,  namely,  the  supreme  joy  of  an  infinite 
prospect.  But  business  would  soon  lead  him  to 
make  his  home  in  another  State ;  and  so,  when  I 
joined  their  hands  in  one,  and  with  words  of  bless- 
ing dismissed  them  for  the  wedding  journey,  it 
was  with  the  thought  that  that  brief  hour  of  the 
nuptial  scene  was  probably  the  ending,  as  it  had 
been  the  beginning,  of  my  acquaintance  with  Mr. 
L . 

It  was  a  surprise,  therefore,  when  a  few  months 
later,  a  long  letter  came  with  his  name  appended. 
The  contents  of  the  letter  were  even  more  surpris- 
ing. That  letter  lies  before  me  now  as  I  write 
these  lines.  It  informed  me  that  he  had  been  over- 
taken by  a  strange  event.  A  change  had  occurred 
in  his  feelings  such  as  he  had  never  supposed  could 
possibly  happen,  at  least  to  him.  And  that  change 
had  come  about  in  a  manner  so  remarkable  that  he 

«4 


2IO  .  Worth  Keeping. 

could  not  account  for  it  otherwise  than  by  suppos- 
ing it  to  be  the  work  of  a  supernatural  power. 

Business,  he  says,  had  called  him  to  the  wilds  of 
northern  Minnesota.  Walking  alone  one  day 
through  the  deep  woods  for  the  purpose  of  viewing 
some  timber  which  he  had  purchased,  he  fell  into 
what  was  to  him  an  unwonted  path  of  meditation. 
Under  those  tall  and  solemn  pines  his  past  life 
began  to  march  in  review  before  the  eye  of  his 
memory.  Scenes  and  events  came  back  with  all 
the  freshness  of  yesterday.  His  brain  seemed  pre- 
ternaturally  quickened.  The  impression  of  all  that 
passed  in  his  mind  was  of  a  kind  that  no  mental 
retrospect  had  ever  produced  on  him  before. 
Briefly  stated,  the  substance  of  his  thoughts 
seemed  to  have  been,  that  during  the  years  of  his 
life  he  had  received  many  good  things,  for  all  of 
which  he  had  never  yet  expressed  any  gratitude  to 
the  Infinite  Giver. 

Such  a  reflection  might  seem  ordinary  enough, 
indeed ;  but  at  this  time  it  somehow  acquired 
a  strange  power.  It  pierced  his  very  soul  like 
the  thrust  of  a  javelin.  It  literally  felled  him 
to  the  ground.  How  it  was  he  hardly  knew,  but 
he  found  himself  on  his  knees  at  the  foot  of  a  tree, 
uttering  loud  cries  and  broken  prayers  to  God  for 
mercy  and  forgiveness. 

In  the  letter  before  me  L does  not  say  that 

he  was  distinctly  conscious  of  becoming  a  changed 
man  while  thus  prostrate  in  that  solemn  sanctuary 


How  the  Question   Was  Answered."       211 

of  nature,  or  what  precise  meaning  he  connected 
with  the  feelings  which  had  so  suddenly  overpow- 
ered him.  But  he  did  remember  in  that  very  hour 
of  spiritual  tumult,  that  he  had  often  boasted  that 
such  a  thing  could  never  come  to  him  !  Unques- 
tionably, therefore,  it  had  the  effect  to  chasten  his 
conceit,  and  to  open  his  mind  to  a  wholly  new  set 
of  opinions.  He  had  become  willing  all  at  once  to 
look  at  some  things  as  he  never  had  done  before. 

It  was  considerably  past  nightfall  when  L 

returned  to  the  camp  which  he  had  left  when  he 
went  out  to  count  the  "  stumpage  "  which  he  had 
purchased.  But  among  the  rough  lumbermen  who 
had  come  in  from  the  day's  chopping  he  saw  no 
one  to  whom  he  felt  inclined  to  tell  the  strange 
experience  which  had  marked  the  day  as  the  most 
memorable  of  his  life.  A  few  days  later  he  had 
occasion  to  visit  the  nearest  city  on  the  river 
below.  On  reaching  the  bustling  town,  something 
prompted  him  to  inquire  for  the  reading-room  of 
the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association.  Perhaps 
it  was  a  vague  hope  of  meeting  there  some  one  to 
whom  he  might  venture  to  mention  his  new  feel- 
ings. Instead,  however,  of  the  coveted  opportu- 
nity, he  found  what  was  still  better. 

On  entering  the  reading-room,  his  eye  rested 
first  on  the  Bible  that  lay  on  the  table  amidst 
reviews,  newspapers,  and  magazines.  That  he 
should  not  deem  it  necessary  to  glance  just  at  the 
morning  paper,  struck  him  as  another  strange 


212  Worth  Keeping. 

thing  added  to  the  many  that  were  being  clustered 
together  in  his  new  experience.  But  so  it  was, 
somehow,  and  the  wealth  of  periodicals  about  him 
had  no  attraction  for  him  that  morning ;  but  a  sin- 
gular impulse  led  him  straight  to  that  Bible  —  a 
volume  whose  leaves  he  had  turned  before,  indeed, 
but  he  could  hardly  remember  when.  At  the  page 
where  he  first  opened,  he  began  to  read.  What 
now  ?  What  electric  spell  had  taken  possession  of 
those  familiar  types?  What  hidden  talisman  in 
those  pages  is  it,  whose  mighty  finger  have  laid 
hold  of  his  very  heartstrings  ?  When  before  did 
he  ever  find  himself  held  to  that  Book  as  by 
the  glittering  eye  of  a  charmer  ?  With  strange 
eagerness  he  keeps  on  reading.  Hours  pass,  and 
still  he  reads.  When  at  length  he  returns  to  the 
consciousness  of  his  mundane  relations,  and  a 
quick  glance  at  his  watch  reminds  him  of  a  busi- 
ness engagement,  his  first  thought  is  that  this  new 
experience  with  the  Bible  is  hardly  less  wonderful 
to  him  than  that  other  wonderful  experience  that 
had  come  to  him  in  the  deep  solitude  of  the  pine 
forest  only  a  few  days  before. 

Every  day,  he  writes  me,  he  visited  that  reading- 
room,  so  long  as  his  business  detained  him  in  the 
city.  And  each  day  his  whole  leisure  time  was 
occupied,  not  with  the  files  of  papers,  but  in  pon- 
dering those  precious  sentences  of  eternal  wisdom. 
And  every  day,  he  adds,  it  was  to  him  a  theme  of 
increasing  amazement  that  his  mind  could  ever 


How  the  Question    Was  Answered.        213 

have  been  dull  to  a  volume  of  such  unfathomable 
interest  and  wealth. 

At  length,  one  day,  as  he  sits  reading  in  his 
accustomed  place,  he  observes  that  the  room  is 
being  taken  possession  of  -by  an  audience  of  men. 
It  is  the  business  men's  weekly  prayer-meeting. 
He  closes  his  book  and  listens.  He  had  heard 
prayers  and  hymns  before,  but  never  with  such 
sensations  as  now.  To-day,  as  these  songs  arise, 
and  as  those  petitions  go  forth  with  thrilling  fervor 
from  the  hearts  of  those  earnest  men,  it  is  to  our 
Egbert  the  unveiling  of  a  new  world.  Tears  pour 
down  his  cheeks  like  rain.  He  sees  now  for  him- 
self that  the  armor  of  his  old-time  obstinacy  on 
religious  subjects  is  pierced,  broken,  and  shattered. 
Even  he  is  melted  by  a  prayer-meeting  —  even  he, 

the  proud  Egbert  L ,  who  had  often  ranked 

such  an  assembly  in  the  same  catalogue  with  the 
incantations  of  a  Hottentot !  That  prayer-meeting 
was  to  him  a  place  of  discovery.  In  the  light  of 
that  hour  it  was  that  he  opened  his  eyes  at  last  to 
the  tokens  of  a  change  in  himself. 

Before  the  meeting  is  ended,  it  is  impressed  on 
him  that  he  ought  to  tell  these  good  men  what  has 
lately  happened  to  him.  With  such  self-mastery 
as  he  can  command,  he  rises  and  begins.  He  has 
hardly  finished  before  he  is  greeted  with  a  tumult 
of  sympathy.  There  is  no  chance  for  benediction 
or  any  formal  closing  of  the  meeting,  so  many  of 
the  men  have  left  their  seats  to  gather  about  him 


214  Worth  Keeping. 

with  handshakings  and  words  of  Christian  recogni- 
tion. This  letter  assures  me  that  never  till  that 
moment  did  he  know  what  a  sweet  thing  was  meant 
by  that  New  Testament  word,  "  fellowship." 

It  was  shortly  after  this  prayer-meeting  scene 

that   this   letter    was    written,    in    which    L 

describes  to  me  the  wondrous  way  in  which  the 
Lord  had  led  him.  It  was  oh  Wednesday  that 
the  letter  reached  me.  Of  course  I  accepted  it  as 
a  special  message  for  my  own  prayer-meeting  of 
that  evening.  And  indeed  it  proved  so.  It  fell  on 
our  evening  gathering  like  a  thunder-clap  from  a 

clear  sky.     Could  it  be  possible  ?     Egbert  L 

actually  converted,  and  in  such  a  wonderful  way ! 
The  Spirit's  presence  was  already  being  felt  among 
my  people,  and  this  news  only  deepened  the  impres- 
sion. A  few  of  the  young  men,  however,  who  had 
been  intimate  companions  of  Egbert,  could  hardly 
credit  the  tidings.  They  would  not  believe  till 
they  saw  and  heard  from  his  own  lips.  They  were 
not  long  denied  the  opportunity.  Very  unexpect- 
edly word  came  that  L would  be  with  us  for 

only  a  brief  stop  on  a  certain  day.  A  meeting  was 
quickly  arranged  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  old 
friends.  He  was  there  at  the  time  appointed.  It 
was  an  hour  and  a  scene  which  I  shall  never  forget. 
In  the  presence  of  a  crowded  room  full  of  sobbing 
listeners,  I  saw  him  stand  up  and  tell  in  his  own 
direct  and  simple  and  manly  way,  how  God  had 
brought  him  out  of  great  darkness  into  marvelous 


How  the  Qtiestion   Was  Answered.        215 

light.  Among  the  points  in  his  remarks  which  I 
distinctly  recall,  he  said  in  substance  this  :  "  My 
friends,  some  of  you  will  remember  that  I  used  to 
say  that  conversion  was  only  a  physical  excite- 
ment ;  that  it  was  the  product  of  a  crowded  room, 
of  hot  air,  and  the  magnetic  contact  of  mind  with 
mind ;  that  the  Lord  had  nothing  to  do  with  it ; 
that  it  was  easy  enough  for  men  to  convert  each 
other  at  any  time,  if  they  only  knew  enough  to 
supply  the  proper  mental  and  mechanical  condi- 
tions. I  am  not  sure  but  I  honestly  thought  so. 
But  I  thank  God  for  showing  me  my  mistake ;  and 
I  thank  Him  with  all  my  heart  for  doing  it  just  as 
He  did —  taking  me  out  into  those  woods,  away  off 
up  there  at  the  head-waters  of  the  Mississippi,  a 
hundred  miles  beyond  the  homes  of  civilized  men, 
leading  me  out  alone  into  His  own  solemn  temple 
of  nature,  where  there  was  no  eye  but  God's  to  see 
me,  no  voice  but  God's  to  speak  to  me —  I  praise 
Him  that  there  in  that  solitary  stillness  He  laid  His 
hand  upon  me  and  pressed  me  to  the  earth  under 
a  sense  of  the  sins  and  ingratitude  of  my  life  ;  and 
that  there  He  showed  me  at  last  that,  not  simply 
the  work  of  man,  but  the  power  of  the  Highest, 
has  something  to  do  in  this  matter  of  religion.  I 
am  convinced,  my  friends ;  I  am  convinced." 

These  words  were  uttered  with  an  intensity 
of  feeling  that  lifted  the  speaker  almost  to  a 
pitch  of  eloquence.  They  carried  conviction  to 
others  also,  even  the  most  skeptical.  Yes,  it  was 


2  id  Worth  Keeping. 

impossible  to  doubt  longer.    The  great  change  had 

really  come  to  Egbert  L ,  and  for  him  too  had 

been  answered  the  most   momentous   question  of 
the  human  soul. 


LOVE'S  ESTIMATE. 


SMOOTH  shells  and  rounded  pebbles  from  the  beach, 

With  coral  sprays  from  sunny  isles  afar, 
Lie  on  the  mantel  out  of  baby's  reach. 

She,  thinking  these  my  choicest  treasures  are, 
Digs  diligently  with  her  dimpled  hands 
For  rough  rock  fragments  in  the  common  sands, 

And  ranges  them  upon  a  lower  shelf. 

"  Pitties  for  mamma.     Finded  'em  myself  ! " 
I  kiss  the  lifted  forehead,  and  I  make 
Treasures  of  worthless  things  for  baby's  sake. 

So  God  loves  us.     From  ranks  of  Seraphim 
He  stoops  to  take  the  gifts  we  offer  Him. 
He  knows  our  weakness,  ignorance  and  sin, 
He  views  our  offerings  as  they  should  have  been. 


The  Salem  Sufferer.  217 


THE  SALEM  SUFFERER. 


UT  is  wonderful  how  little  outward  circum- 
stances have  to  do  with  one's  happiness ! 
"  A  good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from  him- 
self," so  it  was  said  some  three  thousand  years 
ago ;  and  three  thousand  years  have  continually 
illustrated  its  truth.  The  only  satisfying  spring 
is  inside. 

When  I  was  a  child,  my  father  used  to  take  me 
with  him  in  his  pious  calls  on  a  poor,  bedridden 
young  woman  in  my  native  city.  While  still  on 
the  pavement  below,  I  would  hear  sounds  that 
made  me  shudder ;  and  I  shuddered  the  more  as  I 
saw  her,  in  the  partially  darkened  room,  start  up 
suddenly  into  a  sitting  posture,  beat  her  right  hand 
violently  against  her  face,  and  fling  herself  back 
against  a  rubber  sheet  stretched  near  the  wall  at 
her  head. 

These  spasms  occurred  every  few  minutes,  day 
and  night,  so  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  proper 
sleep  ;  nor  was  there  any,  except  that  toward  morn- 
ing a  slight  feeling  of  stupor  would  come  over  her, 
not,  however,  locking  up  a  single  sense. 

Nor  was  this  all.    The  violence  of  her  blows  had 


2i8  Worth  Keeping. 

wholly  destroyed  the  sight  of  one  eye.  Painful 
ulcers  found  vent  at  her  ears.  Bloody  matter  was 
expectorated  from  her  lungs.  Worse  than  all,  her 
throat  was  in  such  a  condition  that  she  could  eat 
absolutely  nothing.  And  the  little  nourishment  she 
took  in  a  liquid  form  seemed  even  about  to  strangle 
her  to  death ! 

Can  one  think  of  more  downright  misery  —  the 
sources  of  happiness  more  completely  cut  off  ? 
Literally  unable  to  eat  or  sleep !  and  strangulation 
instead  of  the  pleasure  of  appetite  at  every  mouth- 
ful swallowed. 

But  I,  who  saw  her  thus  when  a  boy,  saw  her  the 
same,  and  very  many  times  too,  when  a  man.  I 
went  through  a  long  preparation  for  college  ;  pur- 
sued a  college  course ;  spent  two  years  in  teaching, 
and  then  three  at  the  theological  seminary ;  again 
taught  two  years ;  next  served  three  years  as  a 
pastor ;  and  then  entered  on  a  long  professorship, 
sometime  during  which  the  sufferer  entered  on  the 
rest  of  heaven. 

Through  all  these  years  of  growth  and  change 
and  work — that  seemed  an  age  —  as  I  thought  of 
her,  every  day  and  every  night  was  like  every  other, 
save  that  the  dreadful  monotony  tended  to  worse 
and  worse,  with  paroxysms  far  more  powerful, 
which  either  for  months  doubled  her  up  like  a  half- 
closed  knife,  or  threw  her  suddenly  far  out  upon 
the  floor.  Indeed,  release  came  from  a  deadly  blow 
inflicted  in  one  of  these  latter  spasms. 


The  Salem  Siifferer.  219 

During  that  score  of  years  —  will  my  readers 
believe  me  ?  —  if  one  had  asked  me  to  lead  him  to 
the  happiest  heart  I  knew  in  the  city  of  Salem, 
Mass.,  I  should  have  taken  him  to  that  dear 
sufferer,  always,  when  not  in  a  spasm,  sunny, 
always  trustful,  always  loving,  always  grateful, 
always  thoughtful  of  others,  always  ready  with  a 
sweet  word  for  her  Saviour !  To  other  sick  cham- 
bers I  have  gone  to  carry  spiritual  consolation,  but 
to  hers  never.  In  her  was  the  "  well  of  water 
springing  up  into  everlasting  life,"  refreshing  her 
own  soul  and  perpetually  overflowing  in  abundant 
streams  to  others. 

Said  one  of  her  physicians  to  me  —  physicians 
visited  her  from  all  parts  of  the  world  —  "  Sarah 
Purbeck  is  the  most  wonderful  illustration  of  the 
power  of  religion  to  sustain,  I  have  ever  known  or 
read  of." 

How  does  such  a  case  prove  the  possibility  of  a 
soul-life  wholly  independent  of  the  life  of  the  body ; 
and  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  true  life  of  the  soul. 


22O  Worth  Keeping. 


SOCIALISM  IN  GERMANY. 


|HERE  is  no  distinc£  point  nor  act  to  mark 
the  rise  of  Socialism  in  Germany  as  a 
practical  question  of  government  and  soci- 
ety. Here  and  there  a  speculative  professor  or  a 
dreamy  philosopher  had  put  forth  a  Socialistic 
scheme  of  society  as  a  fantasy  of  his  own  brain, 
with  hardly  a  thought  of  its  ever  being  reduced  to 
experiment  in  practical  life.  But  such  fantasies, 
when  seized  upon  by  the  common  mind,  have  been 
dangerous  incentives  to  social  revolution  ;  and  the 
more  dangerous  in  the  degree  that  they  were  chi- 
merical. When  philosophers  go  mad,  what  follies 
may  not  be  expected  from  the  people  ?  But  though 
philosophers  had  tinged  the  common  mind  with  the 
illusion  of  a  Socialistic  paradise,  hunger  first 
roused  the  people  to  a  war  upon  society  in  behalf 
of  labor.  The  introduction  of  machinery  into 
Germany  caused,  in  certain  departments  of  labor, 
a  revolution  so  sudden  and  complete  that  masses 
of  workmen  were  thrown  out  of  employment. 
These  began  to  assail  capital  as  their  enemy,  and 
to  call  upon  government  for  relief.  This  was 
especially  the  case  with  the  hand-weavers  of  Silesia, 


Socialism  in  Germany.  221 

nearly  forty  years  ago,  whose  riotous  outbreaks 
against  factories  required  to  be  put  down  by  mili- 
tary force.  Some  writers  date  the  Socialistic  move- 
ment from  that  event. 

But  that  was  really  a  wild  uprising  of  men 
threatened  with  famine,  and  not  the  attempt  to 
realize  any  political  or  Socialistic  scheme  of  reform. 
Socialism  was  a  malaria  which  slowly  infected  the 
body  politic,  but  did  not  manifest  itself  by  outward 
symptoms  until  a  feverish  condition  of  the  atmos- 
phere brought  it  out  with  sudden  and  alarming 
virulence  ;  and  this  was  only  within  the  last  twenty 
years.  This  social  disease  originated  in  France, 
and  passed  into  Germany,  at  first  through  the 
medium  of  political  revolution,  which  originated  in 
quite  other  grounds.  The  revolutionary  spirit, 
which  in  1 848  spread  from  France  to  Europe,  gave 
a  new  impulse  to  the  hopes  of  the  Liberals  in  Ger- 
many, but  had  little  to  do  with  the  emancipation  of 
labor  through  a  social  democracy.  In  Germany  the 
common  people,  for  ages  accustomed  to  subjection, 
had  hardly  come  to  the  consciousness  of  political 
life,  and  the  dream  of  democracy  was  scattered  by 
the  reaction  which  followed  the  frenzy  of  '48. 

But  though  the  agitation  was  suppressed,  at  least 
in  its  open  and  violent  forms,  it  had  stirred  the 
masses  of  society  with  new  hopes  for  their  future. 
In  place  of  dreamy  philosophers,  practical  leaders 
arose,  with  a  faculty  for  organization  and  powers  of 
popular  appeal.  Chief  among  these  were  Karl 


222  Worth  Keeping. 

Marx,  who,  after  the  suppression  of  revolution  in 
1849,  went  over  to  the  extremest  doctrines  of 
French  Socialism ;  and  Ferdinand  Lassalle,  who, 
when  things  were  quieted  down  in  Prussia,  con- 
ceived the  project  of  drilling  workmen  into  a  polit- 
ical party  aiming  at  the  overthrow  of  capital, 
through  workingmen's  associations,  and  the  recon- 
struction of  society  through  the  polls.  Marx 
reduced  Socialism  to  a  philosophical  system ; 
Lassalle  endowed  it  with  the  gift  of  organization, 
and  thus  inspired  it  with  the  consciousness  of 
power  in  asserting  its  own  demands.  Both  these 
leaders  commanded  attention  by  their  rare  intel- 
lectual ability.  Lassalle  especially  was  heard  and 
read  with  respect  even  by  the  upper*classes,  and 
his  earlier  schemes  for  the  relief  of  workmen,  being 
regarded  as  more  philanthropic  than  political,  were 
at  first  aided  by  the  Prussian  government.  Bis- 
marck at  one  time  coquetted  with  Lassalle  as  a 
possible  ally  in  his  own  political  and  social  schemes. 
Through  these  writers  and  their  colleagues  the 
most  advanced  doctrines  of  French  Socialists  were 
made  familiar  to  the  common  people  of  Germany. 
With  the  growth  of  manufactures  came  a  large 
increase  of  the  artisan  class  in  Germany,  in  con- 
trast to  the  agricultural,  which  had  hitherto  formed 
the  bulk  of  the  laboring  population.  As  a  rule  in 
all  countries,  Socialism  gathers  its  adherents  not 
from  the  men  who  till  the  soil,  but  from  artisans  in 
cities,  towns  and  manufacturing  villages.  These 


Socialism  in  Germany.  223 

have  interests  in  common,  and  have  facilities  for 
intercourse  and  organization  which  lay  them  open 
to  the  influence  of  demagogues  and  to  the  propa- 
gation of  novel  ideas.  Events  in  Germany,  and 
especially  in  Prussia,  from  1860  to  1871,  favored  the 
growth  of  political  power  among  workmen.  Under 
the  constitution  of  Prussia,  there  was  already  an 
extended  popular  suffrage,  and  when  the  struggle 
for  supremacy  arose  between  the  government  and 
the  Parliament,  the  workmen's  vote,  which  went 
almost  as  a  unit,  was  courted  both  by  Liberals  and 
by  Conservatives  as  a  balance  of  power.  But  the 
constitution  of  the  North  German  Confederation, 
and  afterwards  that  of  the  German  Empire,  made 
suffrage  absolutely  universal  —  every  German  twen- 
ty-five years  of  age,  and  neither  a  pauper  nor  a 
criminal,  being  entitled  to  vote  by  ballot  and  with- 
out challenge  for  members  of  Parliament.  Of 
course,  workmen  were  now  a  power  in  politics  in 
the  exact  proportion  of  their  numbers,  and  by 
giving  their  united  strength  to  a  single  purpose, 
could  make  that  power  felt.  The  Socialist  leaders 
were  prompt  to  avail  themselves  of  this  immense 
facility,  by  a  thorough  organization  and  an  active 
drill  of  the  social  democracy. 

In  1871,  the  German  army  returned  victorious 
from  France,  bringing  with  it  the  unity  which 
Republicans  and  Revolutionists  had  struggled  for 
in  vain,  and  also  an  enormous  sum  of  money,  with 
which  to  set  up  the  new  Empire.  Everybody  went 


224  Worth  Keeping. 

wild.  Henceforth  Germany  was  the  head  of 
Europe,  not  only  in  power  but  in  plenty  and  pros- 
perity. Workmen  in  the  country,  and  in  the  mines, 
left  their  drudgery  and  hurried  to  the  cities  to  pick 
up  gold  in  the  streets.  Buildings  went  up  by  magic, 
new  banks  were  formed,  railways  projected,  facto- 
ries started,  towns  laid  out ;  in  a  word,  society  was 
turned  upside  down  to  prepare  for  the  millennium  of 
labor.  In  Berlin  I  then  saw  the  workman  at  his 
four  and  five  dollars  a  day,  instead  of  riding  as  for- 
merly, by  omnibus  or  tramway,  or  trudging  along 
with  his  tools,  driving  to  and  from  his  work  in  a 
first-class  hack,  with  his  jolly  comrades,  singing 
and  shouting.  Having  been  taught  that  all  which 
society  is,  and  has,  is  "  the  creation  of  labor,"  and 
having  now  money  and  votes,  why  should  not  work- 
men reconstruct  the  world  to  suit  themselves  ? 

That  was  the  heyday  of  Socialistic  theories,  and 
the  leaders  now  aimed  at  Parliament  as  the  theater 
for  acting  out  their  views.  But  the  crash  of  1873, 
and  the  prolonged  state  of  business  depression  not 
yet  relieved,  brought  down  the  workman  from  these 
high  places  to  struggle  again  with  those  forces  of 
nature  and  society  which  he  can  neither  resist  nor 
understand.  For  a  time  he  attempted  to  resist  by 
strikes ;  but  being  compelled  to  succumb  to  the 
inevitable,  he  began  to  talk  of  revolution,  and/  as 
before,  to  look  upon  society  as  his  enemy.  There 
were  occasional  outbreaks,  but  in  face  of  a  huge 
standing  army  it  was  idle  to  think  of  a  revolution 


Socialism  in  Germany.  225 

by  force.  The  workman,  however,  had  tasted  of 
luxury,  and  had  learned  his  political  power,  and,  by 
appealing  to  his  passions  and  his  ambition,  the 
Socialistic  leaders  now  labored  the  more  earnestly 
to  increase  the  party,  which  should  overturn  society 
through  the  force  of  a  majority. 

Such,  in  brief,  has  been  the  course  of  the  Social- 
istic movement  in  Germany  —  wild  theories  of 
political  economy  taken  up  by  the  masses  as  their 
gospel ;  able  and  eloquent  demagogues  accepted  by 
the  masses  as  their  oracles  ;  financial  inflation  giv- 
ing them  a  taste  of  luxury,  and  political  suffrage  a 
dream  of  power ;  then  the  sudden  sharp  reverse  of 
fortune,  hard  times,  low  wages  and  want  and  misery 
consequent  upon  their  own  extravagance.  Add  to 
these  the  doctrine  in  which  Germans  have  always 
been  trained,  that  the  State  makes  and  unmakes 
society  at  will,  and  nothing  could  be  more  natural 
than  the  notion  of  ignorant  and  inexperienced  men, 
that  if  they  could  set  aside  the  State,  or  control  it, 
they  could  satisfy  all  their  desires.  The  pressure 
of  taxes  and  of  a  vast  military  and  civil  organiza- 
tion above  them  lends  a  touch  of  pity  to  the  very 
madness  of  their  dream. 


226  Worth  Keeping. 


MR.  THOMPSON'S  SIN. 


LAM  Thompson  was  a  farmer.  His  resi- 
dence was  in  the  outskirts  of  a  town  among 
the  hills  of  New  England.  In  one  corner 
of  the  town  was  a  railroad  station  on  one  of  the 
leading  lines  of  the  State.  The  corporation  offered 
a  fair  price  for  wood,  and  many  of  the  farmers  of 
the  town  furnished  large  quantities.  In  fact,  some 
of  them  made  it  their  principal  business  to  cut  and 
draw  wood.  Of  this  class  was  Mr.  Thompson,  who 
hired  Canadians  to  chop  the  wood,  while  he  drew 
it  from  the  farm  to  the  station. 

Mr.  Ensign  had  the  care  of  the  railroad  station. 
To  him  the  treasurer  of  the  company  remitted 
funds,  and  commissioned  him  not  only  to  measure 
the  wood,  but  to  pay  for  the  same.  It  happened 
that  on  one  occasion  a  large  amount  of  money  was 
due  to  individuals  who  had  been  drawing  wood. 
On  a  pleasant  day  in  March,  Mr.  Thompson  came 
to  the  station  for  his  pay  for  several  hundred  cords 
of  wood.  He  was  invited  into  the  office  to  receive 
his  money.  While  engaged  in  computing  the 
amount  due  him,  a  train  arrived,  and  the  station 
agent  stepped  upon  the  platform  for  a  few  moments, 


Mr.   Thompsons  Sin.  227 

leaving  Mr.  Thompson  standing  by  the  desk,  where 
bills  were  lying  in  packages  of  one  hundred  and 
two  hundred  dollars.  After  finding  the  amount 
due  to  Mr.  Thompson,  the  agent  paid  him,  and  he 
took  his  leave.  After  his  departure  Mr.  Ensign 
counted  his  money,  and  found  the  amount  two  hun- 
dred dollars  short.  Several  persons  had  been  set- 
tled with  that  day.  He  referred  to  his  memoran- 
dum-book, and  carefully  examined  the  amount  each 
had  been  paid,  and  then  over  and  over  again  he 
counted  the  packages  of  money.  He  was  satisfied 
that  no  mistake  had  been  made  in  his  computation, 
and  that  he  had  unwittingly  paid  some  person  two 
hundred  dollars  too  much,  or  that  some  one  had 
taken  that  amount  of  money.  He  was  quite  confi- 
dent that  when  Mr.  Thompson  came  for  his  pay 
the  cash  was  all  right. 

The  station  master  settled  with  the  corporation, 
and  made  up  the  deficit  from  his  own  pocket.  It 
was  perfectly  natural  that  Mr.  Ensign  should  sup- 
pose that  Mr.  Thompson  took  that  money;  but  he 
was  a  prudent  man,  and  because  he  could  not  prove 
the  theft,  he  concluded  that  the  wiser  course  wag 
to  keep  silence,  and  leave  it  to  the  future  to  make 
the  matter  plain.  He  could  not  very  easily 
make  up  his  mind  that  Mr.  Thompson  would  do 
such  an  act.  He  was  a  member  of  the  church,  and 
was  considered  very  respectable.  He  had  never 
been  charged  with  any  such  offense,  and  for  this 
reason  it  was  difficult  for  Mr.  Ensign  to  believe 
that  he  would  commit  such  a  crime. 


228  Worth  Keeping. 

It  should  have  been  stated  at  the  outset  that 
when  Mr.  Thompson  purchased  his  land  he  could 
not  pay  the  full  amount  His  "  wood  money,"  so- 
called,  by  special  agreement,  was  to  go  towards 
paying  for  his  farm.  Had  Mr.  Ensign  discovered 
that  he  had  paid  more  than  usual  on  the  mortgage, 
he  would  have  been  more  fully  satisfied  that  he  had 
taken  the  money.  He  made  inquiry,  and  found 
that  he  had  paid  only  the  same  amount  as  usual. 
Thus  while  his  suspicions  were  strong,  there 
seemed  to  be  no  positive  proof  that  they  were  well 
grounded;  and  yet  Mr.  Ensign  had  not  a  doubt 
that  Mr.  Thompson  took  the  money. 

One  year  passed  after  another.  Mr.  Thompson 
drew  wood  to  the  station,  and  received  his  pay  for 
it,  and  at  length  became  free  from  debt.  During 
all  this  time  there  was  no  allusion  made  to  the  two 
hundred  dollars  that  had  been  missed.  Mr.  Ensign 
began  to  call  in  question  the  truthfulness  of  his 
own  suspicions,  and  to  think  that,  perhaps,  he  had 
judged  uncharitably.  He  had,  however,  done  what 
very  few  men  would  have  done  in  his  circum- 
stances. He  had  never  told  any  person  —  even  his 
wife  —  that  he  suspected  Mr.  Thompson  of  theft. 

Meanwhile,  how  was  it  with  Mr.  Thompson  ? 
He  knew  that  Mr.  Ensign  regarded  him  with  sus- 
picion. Still  he  never  alluded  to  the  matter  in  any 
of  their  dealings.  He  allowed  himself  to  go  along, 
maintaining  outwardly  his  profession  of  religion, 
but  destitute,  in  large  measure,  of  enjoyment.  His 


Mr.   Thompsons  Sin.  229 

sin  was  ever  before  him.  He  felt  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  have  the  finger  of  scorn  pointed  at  him. 
He  concealed  his  guilt.  He  did  not  dare  tell  his 
wife.  He  treasured  up  in  his  own  soul  the  terrible 
secret.  It  gnawed  there  like  the  worm.  It  burned 
there  like  the  fire.  He  never  had  a  happy  day 
after  he  put  that  two  hundred  dollars  in  his  pocket. 
Sometimes  he  was  determined  to  take  it  and  send 
it  back  without  communicating  from  whom  it  came. 
Why  did  he  not  ?  Alas,  he  loved  money,  and  he 
could  not  bear  to  part  with  it. 

The  time  came  at  length  when  God  revealed  his 
sin.  He  was  taken  sick.  Now  his  conscience  was 
aroused  in  an  unwonted  manner.  To  him  it  seemed 
that  on  the  ceiling,  and  on  the  side  walls  of  his 
bedroom,  was  inscribed  in  glowing  letters,  two  hun- 
dred dollars.  "  Alas,"  said  he,  "  alas,  that  I  should 
have  sold  my  soul  for  the  paltry  sum  of  two  hun- 
dred dollars." 

He  called  his  hired  man  to  his  bedside  and  said  : 
"Go  for  the  doctor,  and  ask  him  to  come  at  once. 
When  he  has  been  seen,  go  to  Mr.  Ensign,  and  tell 
him  I  would  like  to  have  him  come  up  here.  I 
want  to  see  him  on  some  important  business." 

The  physician  came  and  examined  his  patient, 
and  could  not  make  out  that  he  was  afflicted  with 
any  serious  sickness,  only  that  he  was  very  ner- 
vous. He  prescribed  an  anodyne  and  left.  Soon 
Mr.  Ensign  reached  the  house.  Mr.  Thompson 
requested  all  to  leave  the  room  except  his  visitor. 


230  Worth  Keeping. 

He  invited  him  to  sit  close  by  his  bed.  He  then 
reached  out  his  hand  and  said :  "  Can  you  take 
hold  of  a  hand  that  has  done  you  such  wrong? 
I  stole  two  hundred  dollars  from  you,  and  I  have 
sent  for  you  that  I  may  confess  it  and  make  rep- 
aration." 

Mr.  Ensign  took  his  hand  and  said :  "  Mr. 
Thompson,  how  could  you  do  that  act,  and  sin 
against  God  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,  it  was  because  the  devil  tempted  me. 
I  was  in  debt.  I  wanted  money  to  pay  for  my 
place.  I  felt  that  the  corporation  had  not  done  the 
fair  thing  in  docking  off  fifty  cents  a  cord  on  some 
of  my  wood.  I  knew  the  corporation  was  rich,  and 
would  never  miss  the  money.  I  took  it ;  but  I  did 
not  dare  to  pay  it  in  toward  my  farm.  I  did  not 
dare  tell  my  wife  that  I  had  taken  it.  I  carried  it 

to and  deposited  it  in  the  savings  bank.  It  is 

there  now.  I  have  never  drawn  a  cent  of  it  out. 
Principal  and  interest  are  all  there.  It  belongs  to 
you.  You  have  never  charged  me  with  the  theft 
as  I  have  ever  heard,  and  for  that  reason  no  one 
but  God  and  you  and  I  know  of  the  sin.  And 
now  can  you  forgive  me  ?  If  the  money  in  the 
bank  is  not  sufficient  pecuniary  reparation,  I  will 
make  it  more." 

"  I  could  not  at  first  believe,"  said  Mr.  Ensign, 
"  you  would  do  such  an  act ;  but  I  could  not 
account  for  the  two  hundred  dollars  without  sus- 
pecting you.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  you  express 


Mr.   Thompsons  Sin.  231 

penitence,  I  will  forgive  you.  I  must  say  one  thing, 
and  that  is  that  the  firm  persuasion  I  have  had  that 
you  took  that  money  has  led  me  to  doubt  whether 
there  was  any  reality  in  religion.  Now  that  you 
have  confessed  and  proffered  ample  reparation  for 
your  sin,  I  feel  differently.  If  you  had  died  and 
made  no  sign,  I  should  probably  have  gone  to  my 
grave  with  the  feeling  that  all  religion,  so-called, 
was  a  sham." 

"  My  dear  sir,  don't  charge  my  crime  to  religion. 
It  was  committed  by  me  when  Satan  tempted  me. 
God  give  you  and  me  grace  to  break  away  from  his 
devices,  and  walk  in  the  fear  of  God.  I  have  made 
my  will,  and  have  devised  to  you  all  moneys  stand- 
ing to  my  credit  in  the  savings  bank  in .  My 

executors  will  see  that  you  are  paid." 

Mr.  Ensign  said :  "  Your  executors  will  not 
carry  out  your  good  intentions  for  years  to  come. 
You  will  be  on  your  feet  again  in  a  few  days.  I 
met  the  doctor  and  asked  him  what  ailed  you,  and 
he  said  it  was  more  trouble  of  mind  than  anything 
else  ;  and  now  that  this  has  been  removed  by  your 

own  act,  you  will  soon  be  able  to  go  to and 

do  this  business  yourself.  If  you  wish,  all  that  has 
passed  between  us  now  shall  remain  a  secret.  I 
trust  we  shall  learn  by  this  terrible  fall,  and  the 
pain  it  has  occasioned,  to  pray  '  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation.'  Good-day,  Mr.  Thompson." 

It  was  as  the  doctor  had  said,  and  as  Mr.  Ensign 
had  predicted ;  Mr.  Thompson  was  soon  able  to  be 


232  Worth  Keeping. 

about.  He  got  his  money  from  the  bank  and  paid 
Mr.  Ensign,  so  that  he  was  satisfied.  He  never 
told  his  wife  how  he  had  well-nigh  gone  down  to 
perdition. 


AMBITION. 


THE  wise  have  ever  held  ambition's  gains 

As  worse  than  worthless,  since  these  fail  to  give 
The  meed  whereby  the  dying  hopes  to  live. 

Alas  !  such  gathers  for  his  life-long  pains 

But  a  poor,  mortal  benefit,  that  wanes 

Before  the  years,  as  sands  drop  through  a  sieve, 
While  angels  looking  on  must  surely  grieve 

Over  a  soul  that  nothing  more  attains  : 

Over  a  soul  that,  with  an  equal  leaven 
Of  high  endeavor  set  to  holier  theme 

Than  this,  to  which  its  restlessness  was  given  — 
Just  to  the  following  of  love's  peaceful  stream  — 

Might  now  be  conscious  of  a  present  heaven, 
And  reap  immortal  life  beyond  its  dream ! 


A  Chapter  of  Accidents.  233 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


HAVE  found  out  that  a  man  may  be  actu- 
ated by  excellent  motives,  and  be  perfectly 
sincere  in  his  belief,  and  calculate  to  do 
about  as  well  as  he  can,  and  be  in  many  respects 
painstaking  and  prudent  in  pursuing  his  course, 
and  at  the  same  time  he  may  be  greatly  mistaken, 
and  may  involve  himself  in  serious  difficulties. 

I  went  to  the  Northern  depot  in  Lowell  on  a 
Saturday  night,  with  what  I  thought  a  good  motive, 
to  preach  in  Ashland  next  day.  Feeling  a  little 
inclined  to  put  blame  on  somebody,  after  the  man- 
ner of  those  who  accuse  an  unknown  origin  of  evil, 
or  Adam,  I  really  suppose  that  the  general  manager 
of  the  Boston,  Lowell  and  Nashua  Railroad,  and  all 
the  people  of  Lowell,  are  at  the  bottom  of  my  mis- 
haps ;  for  everybody  knows  that  there  ought  to  be 
a  new  depot,  and  that  there  would  have  been,  if  it 
had  not  been  sagaciously  promised  to  build  one 
whenever  the  citizens  should  agree  where  to  put  it. 
If  they  had  agreed,  or  he  had  built  it  on  his  own 
judgment,  you  would  have  been  spared  this  arti- 
cle. The  uninviting  accommodations  led  me  to 
take  refuge  in  an  arm-chair  in  the  express  office, 


234  Worth  Keeping. 

rather  than  occupy  one  of  the  regular  .rooms,  or 
pace  up  and  down  the  platform  waiting  for  the 
train. 

Again,  my  sincerity  and  intention  to  do  about 
right  stood  in  my  way.  I  was  sincere  in  the  belief 
that  the  Framingham  cars  would  back  down  ten  or 
fifteen  feet  further  than  they  did,  because  they  had 
usually  done  it;  and  if  that  had  been  done  you 
would  have  escaped  this  infliction  of  my  accidents. 
And  I  thought  I  did  about  right  in  looking  sharply 
down  the  track  two  minutes  before  the  train  ought 
to  start,  and  then,  not  seeing  it,  to  sit  down  in  said 
arm-chair  to  wait  patiently.  And,  with  prudence, 
I  took  my  seat  near  an  open  window  about  oppo- 
site where  the  train  usually  starts.  But  I  was  very 
much  intent  on  writing  a  few  sentences  in  my  note- 
book ;  so  that,  in  fault  of  the  usual  movements  of 
the  train,  and  the  usual  outcries  which  I  did  not 
hear,  I  was  left.  My  main  business,  however,  in 
being  at  that  station  was  to  get  that  train ;  and  I 
had  no  right  to  get  absorbed  in  finishing  my  ser- 
mon, or  to  trust  to  the  railroad  routine ;  and  if  I 
had  carried  my  eyes  and  ears  about  instead  of  seat- 
ing them,  you  would  not  have  heard  from  me.  I 
was  like  a  man  so  engrossed  in  the  cares  or  pleas- 
ures of  this  life  as  to  be  unheeding  of  the  alarms 
which  should  startle  him  and  make  him  ready  for 
going  hence.  But  my  prudence  and  calculation  to 
do  about  right,  and  my  sincerity  and  my  general 
good  intent,  did  not  hinder  me  from  being  left. 


A  Chapter  of  Accidents.  235 

And  if  it  had  been  heaven  I  was  going  to,  instead 
of  Ashland,  I  should  have  missed  it,  in  spite  of  my 
sincerity  and  blundering  good  intention. 

Now  I  knew  that  I  had  another  chance,  like  a 
man  calculating  on  a  future  hour  for  salvation. 
And  the  knowledge  that  I  had  this  chance  had  made 
me  easy  about  losing  the  first.  I  did  not  care  much 
about  the  first  anyway.  There  was  a  freight  train 
half  an  hour  later ;  and  I  had  once  seen  what  I  sin- 
cerely supposed  was  this  train  spinning  through 
Framingham  at  great  speed  with  two  cars,  only  a 
little  later  than  the  regular  passenger ;  and  I  argued 
from  this  isolated  fact  that  perhaps  going  by  freight 
would  not  be  very  bad  after  all.  So  many  another 
man,  with  very  slight  knowledge  of  spiritual  things, 
concludes  to  risk  having  good  luck  on  the  next 
chance.  I  was  sincere  in  the  belief  that  I  should 
get  to  South  Framingham  by  supper-time,  but  I 
was  three  hours  and  a  half  on  the  road,  and  should 
have  partially  perished,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
cracker  man  and  milk  woman  who  pitied  me,  as  I, 
half  famished,  hung  round  the  lonely  freight  houses 
on  that  railroad,  looking  wistfully  for  a  little  salt- 
fish. 

It  was  my  purpose  to  walk  or  ride  from  South 
Framingham  a  mile  and  a  half  to  Deacon  Thomp- 
son's, to  find  lodging;  but  when  I  arrived  at  the 
end  of  my  freighting,  at  quarter  of  ten,  I  saw 
standing  behind  another  freight  on  the  Worcester 
road  the  toplights  of  a  passenger  train.  Here  it 


236  Worth  Keeping. 

was  that  my  sincerity  helped  me.  I  was  a  sincere 
believer  in  the  dogma  that  an  accommodation  train 
from  Boston  reaches  Ashland  at  about  half-past 
nine  p.  M.  This  doctrine  I  had  imbibed  by  a  con- 
sultation of  railroad  documents  about  three  months 
before,  when  I  was  first  discussing  the  great  ques- 
tion how  to  get  to  Ashland.  I  am  confident  that 
my  study  of  this  subject  was  as  thorough  as 
that  which  many  persons  give  to  the  great  ques- 
tion, how  late  they  can  start  for  heaven.  This  sin- 
cere belief  of  mine  had  been  lying  dormant  for  all 
these  weeks.  It  was  now  to  become  a  power  in 
my  life.  I  concluded,  as  soon  as  I  saw  that  long 
row  of  lights,  that  this  must  be  the  accommodation 
between  Boston  and  Ashland,  rather  late.  This  I 
determined  to  take,  and  put  up  at  the  Ashland  or 
Central  House,  rather  than  bother  Brother  Thomp- 
son at  a  late  hour. 

This  purpose  was  based  on  my  fundamental  prin- 
ciples to  act  on  my  sincere  beliefs  and  do  about  as 
well  as  I  can,  running  the  risk  that  all  will  come 
out  about  right  And  my  prudence  also  put  in  its 
appearance  when  I  was  creeping  under  the  freight 
train,  which  stood  between  me  and  my  accommo- 
dation train.  This  I  did  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
very  obliging  Framingham  conductor,  who  waited 
upon  me  with  his  lantern,  assuring  me  that  the 
Worcester  would  not  start  and  smash  my  tall  hat  or 
my  head.  The  view  I  had  entertained  on  the  sub- 
ject of  that  train  since  my  profound  investigation 


A  Chapter  of  Accidents.  237 

of  the  topic  three  months  before,  was  now  con- 
firmed by  the  impression  I  received  from  this  affa- 
ble conductor.  Was  he  not  a  railroad  man  ?  It 
seemed  to  me  likely  that  he  must  know  about  all 
railways,  and  certainly  this  train  I  was  after ;  and 
it  was  by  his  shining  light  that  I  took  the  journey 
under  the  cars,  which  under  any  other  guidance  I 
should  have  thought  rather  risky.  He  guided  me 
on  the  way,  and  warned  me  not.  Suppose  now  he 
had  called  himself  a  "  Liberal  Christian  "  minister, 
and  had  said  to  me : 

"  Just  go  ahead.  It  is  no  matter  what  you  believe 
if  you  are  only  sincere.  If  you  do  about  right,  I 
guess  you'll  come  out  about  right.  Your  motive  is 
good;  you  are  going  to  preach.  And  you  have 
been  painstaking  on  my  freight ;  now  only  be  pru- 
dent in  getting  between  these  wheels  and  you  will 
be  all  right.  A  man  who  believes  that  that  train  is 
an  accommodation  so  sincerely  as  you  do,  can 
make  no  serious  mistake  in  taking  it.  You  can't 
expect  to  do  just  right  always  ;  go  on  then  and  do 
about  right,  and  you'll  come  out  about  right." 

"  That  is  where  you  are  right,  Mr.  Liberal  Con- 
ductor," I  imagine  myself  replying  in  the  light  of 
experience ;  "  that  is  exactly  so." 

I  asked  a  man  at  the  station  whether  this  was 
the  Western  accommodation,  and  received  an  affirm- 
ative answer.  He  was  as  smooth  and  conciliating, 
and  as  willing  to  foster  in  me  my  sincere  belief,  as 
if  he  had  been  a  Universalist  clergyman.  He 


238  Worth  Keeping. 

seemed  to  have  no  hesitation  whatever  in  encour- 
aging me  to  risk  all  on  that  train  to  Ashland.  I 
saw  the  conductor  of  that  train ;  it  was  not,  how- 
ever, convenient  to  get  at  him  amid  a  crowd  of  men 
tinkering  the  engine.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  his 
face  was  familiar ;  I  had  undoubtedly  seen  him  on 
one  of  the  many  accommodations  of  that  very 
accommodating  road.  There  was  no  ticket  agent 
up  at  that  time  of  night,  and  nobody  else  I  could 
consult.  I  was  prudent,  and  I  would  have  asked 
several  more  people  whether  I  was  right,  if  I  had 
seen  anybody  who  knew  more  than  I  did  about  that 
•train.  I  entered  a  car,  and  found  about  twenty 
students,  four  at  least  more  or  less  under  the 
influence  of  liquor.  I  gave  the  conductor  ten  cents 
at  just  about  the  time  I  was  whizzing  by  Deacon 
Thompson's  house  within  three  rods  of  it.  He  did 
not  appear  willing  to  take  it.  Did  not  know  what 
I  meant.  This  was  an  express  for  New  York,  and 
would  not  stop  for  twenty-three  miles.  Would  not 
stop  that  train  for  his  own  father  to  get  off  to 
preach  in  Ashland.  He  must  take  up  a  contribu- 
tion on  me  for  sixty-five  cents.  And  so  I  went  to 
Worcester.  Those  drunken  college  boys  were  just 
as  sincere  as  I  was,  believing  that  they  were  on  the 
road  to  happiness  ;  and  in  their  way  they  did  about 
right,  not  getting  very  drunk  ;  and  they  were  pru- 
dent, not  allowing  the  drunkest  ones  to  go  out  on 
the  platform ;  and  their  designs  were  good ;  they 
were  to  keep  Sunday  in  Worcester,  or  on  the  Lake, 


A  Chapter  of  Accidents.  239 

after  their  fashion.  But  if  they  keep  on  the  kind 
of  "train  "  they  were  going  on  then,  they  will  land 
in  perdition  as  certainly  as  I  landed  in  Worcester. 
And  their  sincerity  and  aiming  to  do  about  right, 
and  prudence  and  meaning  well,  will  not  keep  them 
from  the  remorseless  working  of  spiritual  laws,  any 
more  than  mine  saved  me  from  that  unpitying 
express  train. 

The  Waverly  House  clerk  said  the  cook  would 
rap  at  my  door  at  four  in  the  morning,  so  I  could 
take  the  early  express  back  to  South  Framingham, 
whence  I  could  aim  once  more  for  my  pulpit.  But 
if  I  had  laid  abed  till  he  called  me,  perhaps  I  should 
have  been  there  now,  and  you  never  would  have 
received  this  article.  But  I  took  the  business  into 
my  own  hands  of  getting  up  and  being  off  in  time, 
and  you  have  this  article. 


240  Worth  Keeping. 


ONLY  A  JOKE. 


WAS  always  fond  of  a  joke,"  said  Uncle 
Moses  Fuller  to  the  friends  who  had 
assembled  to  commemorate  the  golden 
wedding  of  his  good  wife,  Aunt  Patty,  and  himself. 
"  But  jokes  have  their  proper  times  and  places,  and 
that  reminds  me  of  a  little  story  that  I  will  relate 
to  you,  young  people,  while  mother  is  in  the  other 
room  taking  down  the  old  china. 

"  Some  of  you  are  married  now,  and  some  of  you 
are  likely  to  be  at  no  distant  day  —  if  there  is  any 
truth  in  signs  or  in  hearsay — and  none  of  you  will 
object  to  receiving  a  mild  lesson  from  an  old  man. 

"  I  was  always  fond  of  a  'joke,'  as  I  was  saying, 
but  I  never  'joked'  my  wife  but  once.  That  was 
after  we  had  been  married  about  a  week,  and  had 
got  nicely  to  housekeeping.  The  old  minister  who 
had  married  us,  and  who  had  known  us  both  all 
our  lives,  and  his  wife,  came  to  make  us  a  call,  and 
Patty  urged  them  to  stay  to  tea.  They  accepted 
the  invitation  so  cordially  given  with  evident 
pleasure. 

"  As  they  were  our  first  visitors,  Patty  wanted 
to  put  her  best  foot  forward,  of  course;  so  she 


Only  a  Joke.  241 

made  hot  biscuit  for  supper.  I  remember  as  if  it 
were  only  yesterday,  how  pretty  she  looked  in  her 
blue  home-made  gown,  and  clean,  freshly-starched 
check  apron,  as  she  was  stepping  around  in  her 
shy,  quiet,  womanly  way,  making  the  biscuit,  look- 
ing at  and  turning  them  in  the  tin  baker  before  the 
open  fire-place,  setting  the  table,  and  pleasantly 
talking  with  her  guests  at  the  same  time ;  for  we 
had  no  parlor  then. 

"  I  felt  quite  proud  of  her,  I  assure  you,  when 
we  drew  our  chairs  around  the  neatly  spread 
and  bountifully  loaded  table,  and  just  at  that 
moment  I  thought  more,  I  fear,  of  Parson  and  Mrs. 
Bancroft's  opinion  of  Patty's  cooking  and  house- 
keeping than  I  did  of  the  grace  he  was  saying. 
Both  of  our  guests  praised  the  light,  short,  prop- 
erly browned  biscuit,  and  Patty's  girlish  face 
flushed  with  genuine  pleasure  as  she  shyly  glanced 
up  at  my  face  for  her  husband's  approval. 

"  But  I  did  not  speak,  and  presently  she  asked 
timidly :  '  I  hope  you  like  them,  Moses,  for  they 
are  the  first  biscuit  I  have  made  since  —  since — ' 
'  Since  you  became  Mrs.  Fuller,'  said  the  parson's 
wife,  considerately  helping  out  her  speech. 

"'Oh,  yes,'  I  replied  flippantly,  thinking  it 
would  not  do  to  praise  my  wife  before  company, 
and  not  relishing  the  possibility  of  losing  an  oppor- 
tunity to  get  off  one  of  my  'jokes.'  '  I  like  them,  to 
be  sure ;  but  I  should  hate  to  have  anybody  throw 
one  of  them  at  my  head,  for  the  consequences 
16 


242  Worth  Keeping, 

might  be  serious.'  Patty's  countenance  changed 
as  if  she  had  received  a  blow,  and  wife-like  she 
tried  to  throw  off  her  ill  concealed  mortification 
at  my  thoughtless  speech.  Although  I  could 
find  no  fault  with  the  way  she  performed  her 
duties  as  hostess,  I  noticed  she  ate  very  little  of 
the  supper. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  started  for  their  home 
just  before  dark,  and  as  I  was  tucking  them  up  in 
their  comfortable  old  chaise  I  thought  what  a 
happy,  contented  old  couple  they  were.  When  I 
handed  the  parson  the  reins,  after  everything  was 
ready,  and  they  had  bidden  Patty  '  good-night,'  and 
she  had  gone  back  through  the  gate  into  the  yard, 
he  leaned  down  toward  me,  and  putting  his  trem- 
bling hand  on  my  shoulder,  said  :  '  My  son,  bear  in 
mind  that  pure,  burnished  gold  even  may  be 
scratched  and  defaced  by  rough  usage.' 

"  I  felt  like  a  brute  all  the  time  I  was  getting  the 
cows,  and  milking  and  doing  the  chores.  When  I 
carried  into  the  kitchen  the  brimming  pails  of  milk, 
Patty  was  washing  and  polishing  and  putting  away 
that  very  china  she,  is  now  taking  down,  and  I 
could  see  in  the  gathering  twilight  that  she  had 
been  crying.  I  kissed  her  impulsively  with  my 
heart  in  my  throat,  and  catching  the  empty  water- 
pail  started  for  the  well.  I  didn't  make  any  prom- 
ises to  anybody  but  to  myself. 

"The  moon  was  shining  high  in  the  heavens, 
and  as  I  ran  down  the  bucket  I  saw  it  reflected  in 


Only  a  Joke.  243 

the  clear  water  at  the  bottom  of  the  round,  deep 
well.  I  felt  as  if  it  might  be  Patty's  love  going 
down,  down,  far  beyond  my  reach,  slipping  away 
from  me  forever.  As  I  drew  up  the  brimming, 
mossy  bucket,  the  brilliant  harvest  moon  was 
reflected  upon  that,  too,  in  broken  flashes  of 
light,  shining  up  curiously  from  the  dark  depths 
of  the  well.  I  hurriedly  drew  up  the  smooth  pole, 
feeling  that  I  was  regaining  what  I  had  come  near 
losing. 

"I  set  the  overflowing  bucket  down  upon  the 
soft,  green  grass,  and  let  it  be  until  the  perturbed 
water  became  still  and  smooth  like  a  mirror.  Then 
looking  into  it  I  saw  the  moon  peaceful  and  calm 
once  more.  I  emptied  the  bucket  into  my  pail,  and 
as  I  did  so,  I  said  aloud :  '  I  will  never  joke  Patty 
again.  She  is  gentle  and  sweet,  and  sensitive ;  far 
too  good  for  a  rough  fellow  like  me.  I  will  never 
grieve  her  tender,  loving  heart  by  my  peculiar  kind 
of  joking  again.' 

"And  I  have  kept  my  word.  We  were  mar- 
ried fifty  years  ago  to-day,  and  although  I  have 
had  my  jokes  with  other  people  —  jokes  that 
they  say  are  'rather  cutting,  though  Uncle  Mo- 
ses don't  mean  anything '  —  I  have  never  joked 
my  wife.  She  has  proved  to  be  unalloyed  gold, 
and,  thanks  to  the  good  old  parson's  advice,  it 
has  not  been  defaced  or  had  its  luster  dimmed  by 
rough  usage.  I  have  never  happened  to  see  the 
moon  reflected  in  the  old  well  without  the  memory 


244  Worth  Keeping. 

of  those  supremely  unhappy  moments  coming 
back  to  me.  Life  is  short  at  the  best,  young 
people,  and  you  cannot  be  too  careful  about  wound- 
ing the  sensibilities  of  those  who  are  nearest  and 
dearest  to  you." 


UNDER  THE  LILIES. 


THIS  casket  with  choice  lilies  spread, 
Contains  a  mortal  doubly  dead  — 
He  died  in  the  esteem  of  men, 
And  yesterday  he  died  again. 

O,  lightly  hold  thy  gold  and  gem ! 
Some  one  at  last  will  care  for  them ; 
But  keep  thy  fame  in  thine  own  trust, 
And  with  thy  deeds  perfume  thy  dust 


Mr.  Finney  in  a  Moment  of  Peril.        245 


MR.   FINNEY  IN  A  MOMENT  OF  PERIL. 


JHE  revival  of  religion  in  western  New 
York,  in  the  year  1826,  created  a  profound 
impression  all  over  the  land.  Mr.  Finney's 
preaching  was  attended  with  most  remarkable 
effects.  His  leading  topics  were :  The  sover- 
eignty and  holiness  of  God ;  the  rebellion  of  the 
sinner ;  the  perfect  equity  of  the  divine  law,  its 
absolute  necessity  for  the  safety  of  the  moral  uni- 
verse, and  the  entire  obligation  of  every  man  to 
obey  it  perfectly. 

The  scene  of  our  narrative  was  in  the  city  of 
Troy,  New  York.  Dr.  N.  S.  S.  Beaman  was  pastor 
of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  which  was  large 
and  influential,  and,  as  is  well  known,  Dr.  Beaman 
was  a  popular  and  effective  preacher.  He  invited 
Mr.  Finney  to  labor  with  him  in  Troy.  Many  were 
opposed  to  him,  and  Mr.  Finney  reluctantly  con- 
sented. The  same  effects  which  were  produced  in 
Oneida  county  were  soon  visible  in  Troy.  Mr. 
Finney's  preaching  was  exceedingly  powerful,  and 
numbers  were  hopefully  converted.  Every  prop 
of  self-righteousness  was  swiftly,  and  sometimes 
rudely,  swept  away,  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether 


246  Worth  Keeping. 

the  intense  feeling  that  prevailed  did  not  betray 
these  excellent  men  into  some  measures  that  were 
neither  warrantable  nor  wise.  Opposition  in  a  vio- 
lent form  was  soon  developed ;  a  portion  of  the 
members  of  the  church  protested  in  a  published 
pamphlet  against  the  action  of  the  pastor  and  Mr. 
Finney.  Nevertheless  the  work  of  conversion 
went  on  with  remarkable  power,  and  men  of  lead- 
ing positions  in  society  could  not  resist  the  force  of 
truth,  and  became  humble  followers  of  Christ,  and 
this  feature  of  deep  humility  and  self-abasement 
was  strikingly  developed  in  the  experience  of  those 
who  were  hopefully  converted. 

It  happened  in  the  midst  of  this  excitement  that 
Mr.  Finney  preached  to  an  overflowing  assembly 
from  the  words  in  Isaiah  xxviii :  22  :  "  Now,  there- 
fore, be  ye  not  mockers,  lest  your  bands  be  made 
strong,"  etc.  It  was  a  sermon  of  immense  power. 
It  arraigned  the  professed  Christian,  and  summoned 
him  to  deep  repentance  for  his  backwardness  in  the 
work  of  revival,  pointed  out  the  various  ways  in 
which  Christians  mocked  God,  and  reproved  them 
with  marked  severity ;  and  then,  passing  to  the 
unconverted,  he  pictured  their  guilt  and  danger  in 
most  appalling  colors,  and  swept  away  every  refuge 
of  lies.  The  sermon  excited  the  most  angry  feel- 
ings on  every  side.  Many  were  perfectly  enraged, 
and  declared  that  if  Mr.  Finney  dared  to  preach 
such  a  sermon  again,  they  would  club  him  in  the 
pulpit,  and  drive  him  out  of  the  church.  They 


Mr.  Finney  in  a  Moment  of  Peril.        247 

endeavored  to  put  a  stop  to  his  preaching,  but  Dr. 
Beaman,  and  a  majority  of  the  church,  insisted  that 
under  his  ministry  so  many  were  converted,  they 
dared  not  oppose  the  manifest  work  of  God ; 
and,  moreover,  it  was  nothing  but  the  nakedness 
and  power  of  truth,  which,  while  it  developed  this 
intense  hostility  in  some  minds,  was,  in  fact,  turn- 
ing multitudes  from  the  error  of  their  ways  to  the 
love  and  service  of  God. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  Mr.  Finney  was  calm 
and  undismayed.  He  trusted  in  God  that  He  would 
deliver  him  from  the  power  of  these  wicked  men, 
and  enable  him  to  deliver  his  message  with  all  bold- 
ness and  fidelity.  It  was  announced  that  he  would 
preach  again,  and  his  exasperated  enemies  publicly 
declared  that  they  would  go  to  church  with  canes 
and  clubs  in  their  hands,  and  chastise  him  on  the 
spot,  if  he  dared  to  repeat  the  sentiments  of  his 
former  sermon.  It  was  expected  that  some  angry 
demonstration  would  take  place,  and  the  church 
was  thronged  in  every  part.  This  expectation  was 
increased  when  Mr.  Finney  announced  his  text : 
"  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God :  for  it  is 
not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can 
be."  Not  in  the  least  did  this  fearless,  devoted 
man  disguise  or  soften  the  truths  he  was  called  to 
utter.  He  may  not  have  been  wise,  and  was  often 
mistaken  in  some  views  of  duty,  but  no  one 
doubted  his  entire  earnestness  and  sincerity.  For 
a  time  there  was  silence  in  the  church,  and  Mr. 


248  Worth  Keeping. 

Finney  proceeded  unmolested  with  his  solemn  sub- 
ject; but  in  the  utterance  of  one  of  his  naked 
truths,  a  low  murmur  was  heard,  which  soon  rose 
to  a  menacing  distinctness.  Mr.  Finney,  however, 
did  not  allow  himself  to  be  interrupted,  but  pro- 
ceeded with  his  sermon.  Louder  and  louder  came  ' 
the  angry  demonstration  from  all  parts  of  the 
church,  until  the  agitation  of  the  audience  became 
extreme,  and  the  voice  of  Mr.  Finney  could  no 
longer  be  heard.  He  therefore  paused,  standing 
erect  in  the  pulpit,  and  looking  undismayed  upon 
the  turbulent  elements  around  him.  Apparently 
anxious  to  know  what  he  would  do  next,  and 
expecting  he  would  apologize,  the  noisy  element 
was  for  a  moment  suppressed  ;  a  perfect  stillness 
reigned  through  the  church.  At  this  moment,  in  a 
deeply  subdued  and  solemn  tone,  Mr.  Finney 
uttered  the  following  words  : 

"  I  learn  that  some  of  you  have  come  this  even- 
ing to  the  house  of  God,  to  inflict  what  you  sup- 
pose merited  punishment  on  me;  but  oh,  my 
friends,  what  .profit  is  there  in  my  blood  ?  will  it 
plead  for  you  at  the  bar  of  God  ?  Rather  reserve 
all  your  strength  for  your  last  dreadful  conflict  with 
your  last  enemy.  Take  those  clubs  and  beat  off 
death  !  beat  off  death  !  This  were  a  higher  wisdom 
than  to  strike  down  a  poor  mortal  like  me." 

Opposition  and  violence  were  now  at  an  end. 
The  services  proceeded  to  their  close  uninter- 
rupted save  by  the  suppressed  sigh  of  the  penitent 


Mr.  Finncy  in  a  Moment  of  Peril.        249 

and   the   sometimes   audible   sob   of    the   broken- 
hearted. 

The  foregoing  incidents  were  related  to  me  for 
substance  by  one  of  the  friends  of  Mr.  Finney. 
Perhaps  I  am  not  accurate  in  all  the  details,  as  I 
have  to  rely  on  my  memory ;  but  in  the  main  I  am 
confident  of  their  truth.  We  need  not  justify  Mr. 
Finney  in  all  things ;  we  cannot  do  it ;  but  that  he 
was  a  chosen  instrument  of  vast  good  to  the  church, 
and  a  man  eminently  gifted  for  his  great  work, 
cannot  be  denied.  George  Whitefield  and  Rowland 
Hill  were  both  eccentric,  but  they  were  eminent 
blessings  to  the  church  and  the  world. 


250  Worth  Keeping. 


ANSWERING  A  FOOL  ACCORDING  TO 
HIS  FOLLY. 


"  Answer  not  a  fool  according  to  his  folly,  lest  thou  be 
like  unto  him. 

"  Answer  a  fool  according  to  his  folly,  lest  he  be  wise  in 
his  own  conceit."  —  Proverbs,  xxvi  :  4,  J. 


IE  are  here  directed  not  to  answer  a  fool  ac- 
cording to  his  folly,  and  to  answer  him 
according  to  his  folly,  an  apparent  contra- 
diction, but  certainly  not  a  real  one.  The  Wise 
Man  would  never  have  uttered  a  real,  intentional 
contradiction,  within  the  compass  of  two  contigu- 
ous verses.  To  do  so  would  have  proved  himself  a 
fool. 

The  ambiguity  in  these  verses  lies  in  the  con- 
necting words,  according  to,  which  are  here  used  in 
two  different  senses.  "  Answer  not  a  fool  accord- 
ing to  his  folly,"  i.  e.,  not  in  a  manner  according  with 
his  folly,  or  agreeing  with  it,  lest  thou  become  as 
foolish  and  perverse  as  he.  "  Answer  a  fool  accord- 
ing to  his  folly,"  i.  e.,  according  to  the  nature  and 
desert  of  his  folly  —  so  as  best  to  meet  and  refute 
it  —  to  silence  him  and  prevent  harm  to  others; 


Answering  a  Fool  According  to  His  Folly.   251 

"  lest  he  be  wise  in  his  own  conceit."  We  have 
many  examples  in  the  Scriptures,  and  in  common 
life,  going  to  illustrate  the  wisdom  of  this  second 
direction  of  Solomon.  The  following  one  was 
given  me  many  years  ago  by  a  venerable  min- 
ister now  deceased.  I  have  reason  to  suppose  it 
genuine,  though  I  have  not  inquired  particularly 
about  it;  since,  whether  the  fact  took  place  as 
related  or  not,  the  example  is  equally  apposite  and 
instructive. 

About  a  hundred  years  ago  the  Rev.  John  Mur- 
ray, the  father  of  modern  Universalism,  performed 
a  preaching  tour  through  the  country.  He  preached, 
among  other  places  at  New  Haven,  Connecticut, 
where  he  had  for  a  hearer  Dr.  Edwards,  son  of  the 
first  President  Edwards.  Mr.  Murray  preached  on 
the  paternal  character  of  God,  representing  Him  a» 
the  universal  Father,  and  setting  forth  His  great 
love  for  His  children,  and  for  all  His  children. 
The  preacher  closed  with  a  very  earnest  appeal  to 
his  audience  against  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punish- 
ment. 

"  Would  any  of  you  who  are  parents  plunge  your 
children  into  everlasting  fire,  and  hold  them  there 
in  torment  forever?  And  does  not  God  love  His 
children  as  well  as  you  love  yours  ?  And  can  you 
believe  that  He  will  cast  off  any  of  His  children, 
and  punish  them  in  hell  to  all  eternity  ?  Impossi- 
ble !  The  thought  is  too  dreadful  to  be  endured ! " 
The  sermon  was  artfully  drawn  up,  and  eloquently 


252  Worth  Keeping. 

closed,  and  was  evidently  making  quite  an  impres- 
sion. 

When  the  services  were  over  and  before  any  of 
the  people  had  left  the  house,  Dr.  Edwards  rose  in 
his  place,  and  asked  permission  to  append  a  few 
remarks.  "You  have  heard,"  said  he,  "of  the 
paternal  character  of  God,  and  the  inference  has 
been  drawn,  from  His  great  love  for  His  creatures, 
that  He  will  not  punish  any  of  them  forever  in  the 
future  world. 

"  Now,  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  the  preacher 
has  drawn  out  inferences  enough  from  this  doc- 
trine. He  should  have  drawn  more,  and  with 
your  permission,  and  his,  I  will  assist  him  in  his 
conclusions.  Would  any  of  you  who  are  parents, 
cast  your  children  into  the  sea,  or  dart  them  upon 
the  rocks  and  cause  them  to  be  drowned  and  per- 
ish ?  Impossible !  You  could  not  do  it !  And 
does  not  God  love  His  children  as  well  as  you  love 
yours  ?  And  do  you  believe  that  He  will  ever 
surfer  any  of  them  to  be  drowned  in  the  sea  ? 
Assuredly  not.  Nobody  ever  was  drowned  in  the 
sea,  or  ever  can  be,  under  the  government  of  God. 

"  Again,  would  any  of  you  who  are  parents  throw 
your  beloved  children  into  the  fire  to  be  tortured 
and  consumed  ?  Would  you  set  fire  to  your  dwell- 
ings in  the  night,  and  cause  your  sleeping,  uncon- 
scious babe  to  be  burned  to  death  ?  Impossible  ! 
You  could  not  do  it !  And  does  not  God  love  His 
children  as  well  as  you  love  yours  ?  And  do  you 


Answering  a  Fool  According  to  His  Folly.    253 

oeiieve  that  He  will  ever  suffer  a  fire  to  be  kindled 
upon  any  of  them  to  consume  them  ?  No  such 
thing  !  No  one  ever  was  consumed  in  a  burning 
house,  or  ever  will  be.  To  suppose  such  a  thing 
would  be  a  reflection  on  the  paternal  character  of 
God. 

"  Still  again  ;  would  any  of  you  who  are  parents 
visit  your  dear  children  with  sore  and  mortal  sick- 
ness, and  see  them  languish  from  day  to  day,  and 
then  see  them  pass  away  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
when  you  could  save  them  at  any  time  with  a  word  ? 
Impossible  !  You  could  not  do  it !  And  does  not 
God  love  His  children  as  well  as  you  love  yours  ? 
And  do  you  think  that  He  will  inflict  sickness  and 
pain,  and  agonies,  and  death,  upon  any  of  His  chil- 
dren, which  you  would  not  inflict  upon  yours  ?  No, 
my  friends,  never !  never  !  According  to  the  argu- 
ment to  which  you  have  listened,  no  one  ever  was 
sick,  or  suffered  pain,  or  died,  under  the  govern- 
ment of  God,  or  ever  will." 

Dr.  Edwards  was  about  to  introduce  some  further 
inferences,  but  Mr.  Murray  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
He  caught  his  hat  and  left  the  house,  and  the 
assembly  was  broken  up.  The  fool  had  been 
answered  according  to  his  folly.  The  sermon  was 
spoiled.  It  was  evident  to  every  one,  that  if  the 
argument  of  the  preacher  proved  anything,  it 
proved  vastly  too  much.  It  contradicted  the  plain- 
est facts,  and  consequently  was  good  for  nothing. 


254  Worth  Keeping. 


WHAT  PINKIE-BLUE  DON'T  KNOW. 


MY  Pinkie-Blue  is  as  fair  as  a  rose, 
But  as  yet  of  this  not  a  lisp  she  knows, 

And  I  wouldn't  have  her  know; 
If  she  knew  she  might  prink  and  put  on  airs 
And  go  thinking  about  the  clothes  she  wears  — 

So  I  wouldn't  have  her  know. 

Pinkie-Blue  wears  silk,  but,  then,  she  don't  know 
That  it's  any  better  than  calico, 

And  I  wouldn't  have  her  know ; 
For,  when  she  begins  to  turn  up  her  nose, 
No  longer  she'll  be  as  sweet  as  a  rose  — 

So  I  wouldn't  have  her  know. 

But  now,  with  the  washerwoman's  baby  all  day 
Pinkie-Blue  will  merrily,  sweetly  play, 

And  I  wouldn't  have  her  know 
Any  one  could  think  the  play  wasn't  right, 
Or  the  black  skin  not  as  good  as  the  white  — 

No,  I  wouldn't  have  her  know. 

A  smile  is  a  smile  with  my  Pinkie-Blue, 
She  believes  that  smiles  are  as  true  as  true, 

And  I  wouldn't  have  her  know 
That  a  smile  may  tell  the  naughtiest  lies 
And  sweet  looks  say  what  the  heart  denies  — 

No,  I  wouldn't  have  her  know. 


The  Russian  Nihilists.  255 


THE  RUSSIAN  NIHILISTS. 


1HE  main  difference  between  the  Russian 
Nihilists  and  the  German  and  French 
Socialists,  is  that,  while  the  Socialists  have 
a  vague  programme  of  government  to  set  up  in 
place  of  that  they  propose  to  pull  down,  the  Nihil- 
ists hold  a  creed  of  destruction,  pure  and  simple. 
The  Russian  Nihilists  believe,  as  their  name 
implies,  simply  in  nothing.  They  seek  to  destroy ; 
the  building  up  that  is  to  come  after  they  leave  to 
the  future.  They  are  atheists,  iconoclasts;  they 
would  destroy  the  State,  and,  equally,  the  church. 
Never  was  fanaticism  carried  to  a  more  dreary, 
chaotic  extreme.  One  would  think  their  ideas  the 
chimeras  of  insanity.  Yet  it  is  not  true,  as  the 
Russian  government,  contemptuous  of  truth  in 
the  very  hour  of  dire  perils,  would  have  the  world 
believe,  that  the  Nihilists  are  small  in  number  and 
feeble  in  power,  though  malignant  in  act  and  pur- 
pose. We  know  on  pretty  good  authority,  that 
these  followers  of  "  King  Anarch "  in  Russia  are 
to  be  counted  literally  by  millions.  There  are  sixty 
thousand  destructive  Socialists  in  Berlin  alone ; 
and  not  fewer  Nihilists  in  St.  Petersburg.  I  have 


256  Worth  Keeping, 

seen  one  statement  that  there  are  three  millions  in 
all  Russia. 

But  the  importance  of  the  Nihilists  is  not  to  be 
reckoned  by  numbers  alone.  Consider  the  classes 
from  which  these  numbers  are  recruited.  Not  long 
ago,  the  daughter  of  a  noble  lady  who  belongs  to 
the  household  of  one  of  the  Grand  Duchesses,  was 
arrested  as  a  Nihilist.  It  is  perfectly  well  known 
that  the  Nihilists  include  in  their  number  nobles  of 
the  highest  rank,  generals  of  long  service,  women 
of  gentle  blood,  lofty  social  position  and  great 
wealth,  chiefs  of  police,  priests  of  the  national 
church,  famous  lawyers  and  doctors,  university  pro- 
fessors, great  landed  proprietors,  and,  it  is  more 
than  suspected,  trusted  officials  of  the  administra- 
tion, and  even  governors  of  provinces.  Nay,  the 
taint  of  suspicion  attaches  even  to  the  heir  to 
the  throne  himself.  The  statement  has  been  reit- 
erated that  the  Czarowitz  is  a  Nihilist.  When  Vera 
Sassulitch,  a  highly  educated  young  woman  and  a 
Nihilist,  shot  the  chief  of  St.  Petersburg  police, 
General  Trepoff,  in  his  office,  she  was  tried  by  a 
jury,  half  of  whom  were  officials  of  the  Imperial 
administration;  yet  she  was  acquitted.  It  is  but  a 
year  or  two  since  seventy  gentlemen  and  ladies  of 
social  rank,  some  of  ducal  and  princely  rank,  were 
seized  one  night  at  the  capital,  hurried  away  to 
secret  trials,  and  not  seen  again.  They  were 
charged  with  socialistic  sedition,  and  were  sent  to 
Siberia. 


The  Russian  Nihilists.  257 

It  is  scarcely  a  year  since  the  strange  fact  was 
discovered,  that  "  in  Switzerland  there  existed  a 
society  of  more  than  two  hundred  Russian  female 
students,  ardently  devoted  and  giving  all  their  time 
and  energies  to  the  cause  of  revolution."  When 
we  descend  in  the  social  strata,  we  find  merchants, 
commercial  travelers,  students,  petty  tradespeople, 
in  the  ranks  of  Nihilism,  swearing  self-abnegation 
and  even  self-immolation  in  the  cause,  and  unques- 
tioningly  obeying  the  orders  of  a  secret  committee, 
whose  very  names  and  locality  are  unknown  to 
them.  Nihilism,  it  is  very  moderate  to  say,  counts 
peasants  and  small  landed  proprietors  by  the 
thousand.  There  are  probably  few  Russian  vil- 
lages where  there  is  not  hid  the  cocoon  of  a  con- 
spiracy. 

A  great  element  in  the  now  evident  and  terrible 
power  of  Nihilism  lies  in  the  consummate  craft 
with  which  it  is  organized,  governed  and  directed. 
Its  mystery  of  organization  is  enough  to  make  the 
timid  and  hypochondriacal  Czar  quake  with  fear. 
Its  central  committee  has  absolute  power,  is  com- 
pletely hid  from  view,  even  from  its  own  members ; 
the  other  committees,  scattered  in  a  network 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  that  vast 
empire,  are  equally  secret  in  locality  and  operation. 
They  send  out  their  orders,  and  the  rank  and  file 
obey.  Men  are  designated  to  the  grim  task  of 
assassination ;  and  they  go  forth  and  assassinate,  if 
they  can  —  with  the  stoicism  of  martyrs  to  a  sacred 


258  Worth  Keeping. 

cause.  The  man  who  shot  at  the  Czar  confessed 
that  he  had  been  chosen  to  do  this  by  lot,  and  by 
order  of  a  secret  committee. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  hundreds  of  Nihil- 
ists are  already  expiating  their  seditious  plotting  in 
the  dreary  wastes  of  Siberia.  There  must  now, 
in  all  probability,  be  a  yet  greater  holocaust  of  vic- 
tims. So  overcome  by  terror  is  the  government, 
that  the  six  largest  cities  in  Russia  —  St.  Peters- 
burg, Moscow,  Warsaw,  Odessa,  Charkoff,  and 
Kieff — are  handed  over  to  the  mercies  of  military 
governors,  armed  with  the  barbaric  powers  of  an 
Asiatic  despotism.  These  governors  may  arrest, 
imprison,  execute,  any  man,  woman,  or  child,  within 
their  districts,  without  trial,  without  notice,  with 
not  a  moment's  delay  for  defense  or  disproof. 

We  may  well  wonder,  however,  whether  it  never 
occurs  to  Russian  statesmen  to  consider  seriously 
the  causes  of  Nihilism,  and  to  attack  the  evil  at  the 
root.  Siamese  tyranny  and  cruelty  will  only  aggra- 
vate it  in  the  end.  Persecution  and  despotism  are, 
indeed,  the  very  food  upon  which  it  thrives.  It  is 
the  persecution,  the  oppression  of  the  past,  that 
has  given  it  being,  upon  which  it  has  been  nour- 
ished and  has  grown.  It  is  almost  enough  to 
account  for  Nihilism,  to  say  that  Russia  is  the  only 
government  in  Europe  in  which  the  people  have 
no  part.  Sooner  or  later  the  autocrat  must  grant 
a  constitution,  or  he  and  his  house,  and  his  swarms 
of  corrupt  officials,  and  his  elaborate  system  of 


/;/  Me,  O  Lord,  Abide.  259 

almost  Tartaric  despotism,  are  doomed.  The 
people  are  beginning  to  find  out  their  power;  and 
when  that  period  comes  in  the  life  of  a  nation,  it 
is  time  for  despots  to  bend  or  be  broken. 


IN  ME,  0  LORD,  ABIDE. 


IN  me,  O  Lord,  abide, 

And  I  in  Thee  ! 
No  more  let  sin  divide  ; 

'Tis  love's  decree. 
Uncertain  all  my  skill : 
Work  out  Thy  holy  will : 

In  me,  O  Lord,  abide, 
And  I  in  Thee. 

Thus,  o'er  and  o'er  I  pray, 

In  me  abide. 
Teach  me  Thy  perfect  way : 

Walk  by  my  side. 
Thine  are  life's  precious  hours : 
Thine  all  my  ransomed  powers 

In  me,  O  Lord,  abide, 
And  I  in  Thee. 

In  me,  O  Lord,  abide  ! 

Give  daily  grace. 
Be  still  Thy  wounded  side 

My  hiding  place. 
Thou  art  mine  only  One  ! 
Give  me  the  secret  stone. 

In  me,  O  Lord,  abide, 
And  I  in  Thee. 


260  Worth  Keeping. 


MAN  PROPOSES,  BUT  GOD  DISPOSES. 


;HIRTY-SEVEN  years  ago  the  eleventh 
day  of  March,  1878,  the  steamer  President 
lay  in  New  York  harbor  ready  to  start  for 
Liverpool.  Right  beside  it  lay  a  sailing  vessel,  the 
Sir  Isaac  Newton,  also  on  the  point  of  leaving, 
bound  for  Germany.  A  foreign  gentleman  and  his 
family,  who  were  going  home  to  Hamburg,  had 
engaged  their  passage  on  the  sailing  vessel,  and 
their  baggage  was  already  on  board.  When,  how- 
ever, the  family  came  on  board,  the  gentleman 
noticed  with  surprise  a  large  engine  strapped  upon 
the  deck.  It  was  a  locomotive  being  sent  to  Aus- 
tria, as  the  United  States  at  that  time  supplied 
that  country  with  many  railroad  engines ;  and  this 
one  proving  too  large  for  the  hold  had  been  secured 
on  deck. 

"  I  do  not  like  the  looks  of  that  engine,"  said  the 
foreigner,  uneasily.  "  In  case  of  a  storm  it  might 
be  loosened  from  its  position  and  make  trouble 
aboard." 

There  was  but  a  moment  to  decide.  He  looked 
at  the  President,  a  large,  fine-looking  steamer,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  embark  upon  her.  Instantly 


Man  Proposes,  but  God  Disposes.         261 

he  gave  orders  for  the  transfer  of  his  baggage, 
which  was  no  sooner  accomplished  than  the  Presi- 
dent was  freed  from  her  moorings,  and,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  relief  in  having  secured  the  change,  he  and 
his  family  gladly  turned  their  faces  homeward. 
No  whispered  oracle  told  of  the  coming  doom. 
Just  when  the  vessel  yielded  to  the  power  of  the 
terrific  storm  which  two  days  later  it  encountered  ; 
whether  suddenly  or  with  prolonged  agony  its  many 
passengers  met  their  awful  fate,  no  one  was  saved 
to  tell.  The  vessel  started.  It  never  reached  the 
destined  shore.  Between  those  two  facts  its  terri- 
ble secret  lies  hidden  until  the  day  when  "  the  sea 
shall  give  up  its  dead."  The  friend  who  recently 
told  me  this  incident  embarked  on  the  sailing 
vessel,  which  left  at  the  same  hour  as  the  Presi- 
dent, encountered  the  same  storm,  but  reached  its 
destination  in  safety. 

There  are  mysteries  in  life  which  it  is  in  vain  for 
us  to  attempt  to  explain.  We  call  them  provi- 
dences, and  we  well  may,  for  they  are  certainly  not 
the  work  of  man.  We  plan  and  act  for  what  seems 
our  best  good,  and  the  result  proves  the  exact  oppo- 
site of  our  intentions.  It  may  be  to  our  destruc- 
tion ;  it  may  be  to  our  salvation.  Instances  similar 
to  this  may  come  to  the  recollection  of  many  who 
read  it.  I  once  stood  with  a  mother  as  she  bent  in 
agony  over  the  grave  of  her  first-born  son,  with  a 
grief  which  found  vent  in  the  reiterated  expression 
of  her  one  thought :  "  I  did  it !  "  He  was  about 


262  Worth  Keeping. 

leaving  her  after  a  vacation  spent  at  home,  and 
after  the  good-by  was  said,  she  followed  him  to  the 
gate,  and  in  the  sorrow  at  parting,  begged  him  to 
remain  "  one  day  longer."  Although  disturbing 
his  plans,  he  yielded,  stayed  the  one  day  longer, 
and  left  her  the  next  morning  to  meet  his  fate 
before  the  sunset  —  one  among  many  victims  of  a 
fearful  railroad  disaster. 

One  other  incident  will  never  be  forgotten.  I 
was  spending  an  evening  many  years  since  with 
a  party  of  young  people,  when,  in  the  midst  of  a 
game,  the  hilarity  was  hushed  by  the  announce- 
ment: "The  Monongahela  has  sunk."  Many  a 
face  turned  pale,  and  hurrying  home  some  spent 
the  night  in  bitter  weeping.  A  party  of  friends, 
some  of  them  brothers  and  sisters,  had  written  that 
they  would  return  on  that  boat,  and  were  expected 
the  next  day. 

In  this  case  the  sorrow  was  turned  into  joy.  The 
friends  came  home  safely,  and  the  singular  explana- 
tion followed  :  "  Our  trunks  were  put  on  board  the 
Monongahela,  and  we  had  no  other  thought  than  to 
return  by  that  boat,  when  some  one  of  the  party, 
almost  thoughtlessly,  proposed  spending  a  day 
longer  in  P — .  After  a  little  talking  and  laughing 
over  it,  this  was  decided  on,  the  baggage  was  taken 
off,  and  the  party  saved.  God,  after  all,  is  in  the 
decision.  Man  proposes,  but  He  disposes." 

While  we  may  tremble  to  take  any  such  respon- 
sibility into  our  own  hands,  if  we  "  commit  our 


Man  Proposes,  but  God  Disposes.         263 

way  unto  Him,"  we  shall  be  led  aright.  It  is  a 
fearful  thing  to  venture  alone  upon  the  great  sea 
before  us  all ;  but  here  we  may  be  sure  of  being 
brought  into  a  safe  haven.  If  God  is  our  guide, 
even  a  wreck  like  that  of  the  President  will  but 
bring  us  into  this  port  in  safety. 

"  What  harm,"  said  Archbishop  Leighton,  after 
having  been  barely  saved  from  drowning  in  a  boat 
on  his  way  to  Lambeth,  when  spoken  to  by  a 
fellow-passenger  on  being  so  calm  during  the 
danger,  "  what  harm  would  it  have  been  if  we  had 
all  been  safe  landed  on  the  other  side?"  This 
faith  is  the  "anchor"  which  "entereth  in  to  that 
within  the  vail." 


264  Worth  Keeping 


THE  STRANGER'S  TESTIMONY. 


ilAR  down  on  the  coast  of  Maine  the  bell  of 
the  village  church  was  ringing  for  prayer- 
meeting.  It  reached  the  ears  of  Frank, 
the  lighthouse-keeper's  son,  as,  aloft  in  the  tower, 
he  helped  his  father  about  their  evening  duties. 

"  There's  the  old  bell,"  said  the  elder  ;  "  I'll  bide 
at  home  to-night,  lad;  do  you  go  ashore  to  the 
meeting." 

So  it  happened  that  Frank  went  that  Sabbath 
evening.  It  was  a  pleasant  change  to  row  across 
the  water  in  the  sunset,  and  join  the  young  men  in 
the  back  seat  of  the  ancient  church.  He  did  net 
expect  to  be  interested,  however ;  he  thought  old 
"Parson  Porter"  dull,  and  the  brethren  were  not 
gifted  with  eloquent  speech.  Frank  fancied  they 
said  about  the  same  thing  every  time,  often  won- 
dering if  their  remarks  had  originally  been  com- 
mitted to  memory.  The  truth  was,  pastor  and 
people  needed  to  be  roused ;  they  had  fallen  into 
listless  formality.  But  on  the  whole,  there  was  to 
Frank  something  attractive  in  the  place  of  prayer 
—  an  indefinable  presence  that  made  him  thought- 
ful and  reverent,  and  increased  that  vague  yearning 


The  Strangers  Testimony.  265 

after  something  better  that  fills  every  fresh  young 
heart.  For  Frank,  while  helping  his  father  in  their 
fortress-like  home  in  the  waters,  had  been  kept  sin- 
gularly free  from  evil  companions,  had  grown  to 
vigorous  manhood,  one  thing  only  lacking  —  faith 
in  Christ. 

The  stillness  was  broken  at  length  by  the  pastor, 
who  read  the  Scripture  selection;  prayer  was 
offered,  a  hymn  sung,  and  the  meeting  was  "  in  the 
hands  of  the  brethren."  This  announcement  was 
followed  by  deep  silence.  Apparently  the  brethren 
had  nothing  to  say,  or  modestly  waited  for  each 
other.  At  last  the  senior  deacon  offered  a  labored 
prayer.  Then  there  was  another  pause.  It  seemed 
a  little  ludicrous  to  the  young  lookers-on  in  the 
rear,  who  exchanged  amused  glances.  Frank,  also, 
felt  disposed  to  smile  at  the  reluctant  laymen. 

"  If  I  were  a  Christian,  I'd  find  something  to 
say !  "  he  thought. 

At  this  juncture  a  stranger  rose,  a  weather- 
beaten,  broad-shouldered  son  of  the  sea.  There 
was  an  earnest,  decided  air  in  his  quick  uprising 
that  roused  all  present  like  an  electric  thrill. 

"  My  friends,"  said  he,  "  I  stand  before  you  to- 
night as  a  stranger.  But  I  trust  I  am  not  a 
stranger  to  Jesus  Christ,  in  whose  house  we  are 
met  to  pray  and  praise.  I  have  tried  to  serve  Him 
for  five  years.  His  word  and  service  grow  more 
precious  each  day.  Wherever  I  am,  I  give  my  tes- 
timony for  Jesus.  It's  humble  enough,  but  He  has 


266  Worth  Keeping. 

said :  '  Ye  are  my  witnesses,'  and  all  who  overcome 
do  so  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  and  the  word  of 
their  testimony.  I  trust  He  will  bless  my  words  to 
some  sin-laden  soul  here.  I  came  into  your  little 
harbor  with  the  morning  tide.  I  go  out  with  the 
next  tide.  Probably  you  will  never  see  me  again. 
If  there  is  one  in  this  room  who  does  not  love  my 
Master,  let  me  beseech  you  to  delay  no  longer. 
You  are  drifting  upon  the  rocks;  take  warning 
from  your  chart,  the  Bible ;  that  beacon  light  to 
guide  you  into  a  safe  port.  The  '  still  small  voice ' 
of  God's  spirit  is  speaking  to  some  heart  in  this 
room  ;  are  you  trying  to  hush  its  pleadings  ? "  His 
keen  eyes  searched  each  face  a  moment,  and  it 
seemed  to  Frank  that  they  lingered  on  him.  Sud- 
denly the  stillness  grew  awful,  as  he  thought  that 
perhaps  the  pleading  voice  of  the  Spirit  was  speak- 
ing to  him  !  The  stranger  then  recited,  with  deep 
emotion  :  "  My  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with 
man  ;  "  and  for  the  first  time  there  came  to  Frank 
an  overwhelming  sense  of  what  it  was  to  resist  con- 
viction. "  You  hear  this  knocking  at  the  door  of 
your  heart,"  the  stranger  went  on ;  "  it  is  Jesus 
standing  without,  the  print  of  the  nails  on  His 
sacred  hands  and  feet  —  the  great  Creator  and 
Redeemer,  who  stooped  to  suffer  for  your  sins 
and  mine.  Oh,  will  you  not  hear  His  voice,  and 
open  the  door  that  He  may  bless  and  save  you  ? " 
It  was  something  new,  this  fervent  yet  simple 
appeal.  It  wondrously  loosened  the  tongues  of  the 


The  Stranger  s  Testimony.  267 

brethren,  for  they  spoke  and  prayed  as  never 
before  —  short,  pithy,  fervent.  The  old  pastor's 
voice  faltered  as  he  closed  the  meeting  by  thanking 
God  for  the  blessed  hour  they  had  spent  in  His 
house.  As  for  Frank,  he  rushed  out  as  soon  as 
possible,  and,  without  exchanging  a  word  with  his 
comrades,  hastened  to  the  shore,  unmoored  his  boat, 
and  was  soon  rowing  swiftly  through  the  waves. 
He  was  like  one  fleeing  from  a  pursuing  foe  ;  but 
it  was  of  no  avail.  Leaving  the  church  behind  did 
not  help  him  forget  the  stranger's  appeal.  The 
arrow  of  conviction  had  entered  his  soul.  He 
would  find  no  healing  for  the  wound  till  he  surren- 
dered his  will  to  Christ.  As  he  crossed  the  bay  he 
passed  the  schooner  that  had  brought  the  stranger, 
and  between  him  and  the  shore  he  could  descry  a 
skiff  approaching,  which  doubtless  held  the  stranger 
returning  from  the  meeting. 

"If  he'd  kept  still  I'd  be  happier,"  muttered 
Frank.  "  I  wanted  to  put  off  being  a  Christian  a 
few  years,  but  he's  stirred  me  all  up ! " 

The  light  streaming  from  the  tower  amid  the 
waves  reminded  him  that  the  speaker  had  likened 
it  to  the  Bible  as  a  guide  to  mariners.  "  I  will  read 
and  see  for  myself,"  he  thought ;  hoping  by  this 
good  resolve  to  quiet  his  awakened  conscience. 
He  reached  the  lighthouse  at  ebb  tide,  and  the 
steps  to  the  landing  were  uncovered.  Mounting 
these,  he  hauled  up  his  boat,  and  appeared  before 
his  father  with  such  an  unhappy  face  that  the  old 
man  exclaimed: 


268  Worth  Keeping. 

"  Why,  lad,  you  don't  look  so  peart  as  you  did 
when  you  started  for  the- shore;  what's  befallen 
ye?"  ' 

Frank  did  not  open  his  heart  to  his  father,  but 
sat  beside  him  in  silence  till  he  retired,  dreading  to 
be  left  alone  with  his  convictions.  That  night  was 
one  never  to  be  forgotten  by  him.  The  "  still  small 
voice "  spoke  in  tones  that  would  not  be  stifled. 
At  last  the  young  man  surrendered  himself  to 
Christ,  and  found  peace.  So  great  was  his  happi- 
ness that  he  could  not  rest  until  he  had  told  some 
one.  He  sought  his  father  at  midnight  with  shin- 
ing face  and  eager  voice,  to  tell  him  that  he  had 
found  the  Saviour. 

"  I  wanted  to  begin  giving  my  testimony,"  said 
Frank,  "  as  the  good  man  did  from  yonder  schooner 
—  I  mean  to  rise  up  very  early  to-morrow  and 
thank  him  for  it !  " 

"It  wasn't  my  testimony  that  set  you  in  the 
right  track,"  said  the  old  lighthouse-keeper  with 
emotion ;  "  but  I'm  glad  ye've  started,  lad ;  I'll 
help  ye  in  my  poor  way ! " 

Morning  had  scarcely  tinted  the  gray  stone  of 
the  lighthouse,  when  Frank  ascended  to  the  top  to 
look  for  the  stranger's  ship.  It  was  not  in  sight. 
He  searched  the  ocean  far  and  wide  with  his 
father's  glass,  but  not  a  sail  was  in  sight.  The 
stranger  had  left  as  quietly  as  he  came.  He  had 
told  the  story  of  the  cross,  risen  up  before  day  and 
gone  on  his  way.  But  his  "  testimony "  bore 


The  Stranger's  Testimony.  269 

precious  fruit,  for  several  of  Frank's  comrades  also 
found  peace  in  believing.  And  after  that,  many 
other  hearts  were  opened  to  receive  the  Master. 

The  stranger  has  never  since  appeared  in  the 
little  seaport,  and  perhaps  his  voice  is  silenced  for 
earthly  testimony  ;  but  he  is  not  forgotten.  Frank 
never  enters  the  boat  to  answer  the  summons  to 
Sabbath  worship  or  evening  prayer,  but  his  eye 
wistfully  searches  the  water  for  the  stranger 
whose  earnest  words  became,  through  God,  such  a 
blessing. 


2/O  Worth  Keeping. 


EXPERIENCES  WITH  TRAMPS. 


JS  it  well  to  give  to  beggars  at  the  door  ? 
That  was  the  question  we  had  been  dis- 
cussing one  day  in  the  seminary.  My  own 
answer  was :  "  I  don't  believe  it  is  wise  steward- 
ship of  God's  money,  and  I  will  not  do  it"  Some 
thought  the  position  wrong ;  that  it  would  be  cruel, 
un-Christian  not  to  help  a  person  whose  story  of 
want  seemed  to  be  honest. 

That  afternoon  the  door-bell  rang,  and,  the  jani- 
tor being  out,  I  answered  the  call.  A  very  pleas- 
ant lady  stood  before  me,  neatly  attired,  dignified, 
and  with  prepossessing  face. 

"  Will  you  please  give  me  enough  to  buy  a  loaf 
of  bread?" 

"  No ;  we  have  a  city  missionary  whose  business 
is  to  help  such  people  as  you.  Go  to  him,  and  he 
will  give  you  all  the  bread  you  need." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  I  have  been  to  him,  and  he  has 
given  me  all  he  has  to  spare,  and  there  isn't  enough 
for  us." 

Who  could  resist  such  an  appeal  ?  I  gave  her 
ten  cents. 

"  Please,  sir,  have  you  any  old  clothes  that  I 
could  cut  over  for  my  little  boys  ?  " 


Experiences   With  Tramps.  271 

"  I  will  look,  and  call  on  you ;  where  do  you 
live?" 

She  named  the  street  and  number.  Saturday 
afternoon  was  very  stormy,  but  I  determined  to 
test  her  truthfulness,  and  to  relieve  her  wants  if 
they  existed.  For  two  miles  I  pushed  through 
sleet  and  slush,  to  find  that  no  person  by  tJiat  name 
lived  on  the  street. 

One  day  there  called  at  the  parsonage  a  lady,  for 
so  she  seemed,  who  told  a  very  sad  story.  She  had 
been  married  but  a  few  years,  had  two  small  chil- 
dren, was  in  poor  health,  her  husband  had  deserted 
her;  the  rent  was  due,  and  the  landlord  had  threat- 
ened to  turn  the  family  into  the  street.  But  she 
had  a  sister  in  New  Hampshire,  like  herself  very 
poor,  who  had  promised  to  give  her  a  home,  if  they 
could  get  together.  "  Will  you  give  me  something 
toward  paying  my  fare  ? " 

I  replied  :  "  We  have  a  society  of  ladies,  who 
make  it  their  business  to  inquire  into  such  cases.  I 
will  write  a  note  in  your  behalf  and  send  by  you  to 
them."  I  put  her  story  on  paper,  asked  an  exami- 
nation of  the  case,  sealed,  and  directed  it  to  the 
president.  The  lady  left  me  with  many  thanks. 
But  that  note  never  was  presented. 

"  O  dear,  I  must  work  on  my  sermon,"  said  I  to 
the  girl  who  knocked  to  say  that  a  man  at  the  door 
wanted  to  see  me. 
"  Good  morning,  sir." 
"  Good  morning !  " 


272  Worth  Keeping. 

"  Is  this  Brother  Makepeace  of  the  Orthodox 
church  ? " 

"  This  is  Mr.  Makepeace,"  I  replied. 

"  Well  now,  brother,  I  ain't  a  Orthodox.  I  belong 
to  the  Baptists ;  but  it's  all  the  same,  you  know  — 
'one  Lord,  one  faith,  and  one  baptism.'  I  come 
down  from  Portsmouth  to  git  work,  but  I  can't  git 
any,  and  I'm  going  back.  I'm  willing  to  walk,  cuz 
p'raps  I  can  git  work  on  the  way,  but  I  hate  to  go 
lookin'  so,  and  come  to  see  if  you  wouldn't  give 
me  a  clean  shirt." 

Being  refused,  he  went  directly  to  one  of  the 
deacons,  as  I  sometime  afterward  learned,  and  said  : 

"  Your  pastor  told  me  you  was  a  large-hearted 
man,  and  you'd  help  a  feller  ;  now  won't  you  give 
me  a  little  money  to  help  me  toward  Portsmouth  ? " 

Being  again  refused,  he  went  to  the  Methodist 
pastor  and  asked  for  work.  The  pastor  sent  him 
to  a  business  man  of  his  society,  who  judged  the 
fellow  to  be  a  "  fraud,"  and  dismissed  him.  But  he 
at  once  went  back  to  the  pastor,  and  said : 

"  Mr.  P ,  that  you  sent  me  to,  gave  me  this 

dollar,  and  now  if  you'll  give  me  one  more,  it'll  be 
all  I  need." 

The  money  was  given. 

A  few  days  after  these  occurrences,  a  letter  came 
to  me  from  the  pastor  of  a  neighboring  church,  and 
this  was  followed  by  other  letters,  all  telling  the 
same  story,  saying  that  a  member  of  my  church 
had  called,  in  distress,  and  asking  the  loan  of  a  few 


Experiences    With  Tramps.  273 

dollars,  with  which  to  reach  home.  He  was  foot- 
sore and  very  tired.  His  mother  was  a  widow, 
living  on  the  same  street  with  me,  and  at  such  a 
number.  The  money  had  been  loaned,  but  not 
returned,  as  promised.  Had  this  poor  brother 
reached  home?  It  is,  perhaps,  needless  to  add 
that  the  fellow  hadn't  arrived,  that  there  was  no 
person  of  the  name  given  in  my  church,  and  that 
the  houses  of  our  street  had  not  been  numbered. 
I  had  to  advertise  the  wretch,  my  only  comfort 
being  found  in  his  voluntary  confession  that  he 
"  ain't  a  Orthodox." 

On  going  down  to  dinner  one  day,  the  deacon 
with  whom  I  was  boarding  at  the  time,  introduced 
me  to  Mr. .  I  forget  his  name.  He  had  pre- 
viously met  my  host,  and  said  to  him  :  "  I  am  grad- 
uated from college  (somewhere  in  the  Prov- 
inces), and  while  studying  incurred  a  debt,  which 
now  I  am  trying  to  pay.  In  the  fall  I  am  to  enter 
a  theological  seminary.  I  came  to  town  a  few 
weeks  since  to  canvass  for  a  book  ;  had  very  good 
success,  and  have  now  returned  to  deliver  them. 
But  the  books  which  I  had  ordered  to  be  sent  here 
have  not  arrived.  As  I  brought  no  money,  I  am  in 
trouble.  Will  you  loan  me  two  dollars  ? " 

My  friend  offered  him  more  than  he  asked.  At 
table  I  met  him,  supposed  him  to  be  a  friend  of  the 
family,  and  was  happy  to  give  him  the  information 
he  wanted  about  various  seminaries.  He  inquired 
after  several  professors  by  name,  showing  himself 
18 


274  Worth  Keeping. 

to  be  no  novice.  On  entering  my  study,  he  picked 
up  my  Tischendorf,  and  translated  off-hand  part  of 
the  Latin  introduction.  He  left  his  address.  The 
name  I  forget ;  the  town  was  Fitchburg,  Mass. 
But  we  searched  earnestly,  "  and  he  was  not,  for 
the  devil  had  taken  him"  Neither  did  his  books 
arrive. 

To  decide  rightly  between  cases  of  misery  true 
and  fabricated,  is  not  an  easy  matter,  especially 
where  there  are  neither  city  missionaries  nor  boards 
of  relief  to  examine  into  them.  Among  the  meth- 
ods of  detection,  none  perhaps  is  better  than  to  ask 
fictitious  questions.  As  a  good  illustration  of  this, 
I  will  give  the  experience  of  a  ministerial  friend. 
During  the  early  part  of  the  war,  a  young  negro 
called  upon  him,  asking  money  by  whicli  to  buy 
the  liberty  of  his  mother  and  sister,  who  were  still 
in  slavery. 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  used  to  live  ? " 

"  In  Richmond,  sah." 

"O,  indeed;  then  you  knew  General  Buell,  of 
course  ? " 

"  O  yes,  sah.     I  work  for  him  long  time." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  that  splendid  span  of  black 
horses  ? " 

"  Yes,  sah  ;  I  dribe  um  eb'ry  day." 

"  Where  does  the  General  buy  his  meat  now  ? " 

He  gave  the  market. 

"  Then  you  must  remember  old  Tommy  the 
butcher  ? " 


Experiences   With   Tramps.  275 

"  O  yes ;  see  him  many  a  time." 

"  By  the  way,  that  was  a  queer  idea  of  the  gen- 
eral, about  his  doors  —  they  were  all  oval,  weren't 
they?" 

"  Yes,  sah." 

"  Didn't  it  trouble  you  to  get  through  the  doors  ? " 

"  No,  sah.  I  used  to  put  de  sarber  on  my  head 
and  den  walk  up  de  little  steps,  fro  de  door,  and 
down  on  de  ubber  side." 

"  Yes  ;  well,  there  were  no  stairs  in  that  house  ? " 

"No,  sah." 

"The  family  slept  up  stairs  ?" 

"Yes,  sah." 

"  Well,  how  did  they  get  up  to  the  chambers." 

"  O,  dey  pull  dem-sells  up  on  de  rope." 

"  Well,  whatever  money  I  have  to  give  to  you, 
I'll  send  down  to  New  Haven." 

A  few  years  later,  my  friend  was  attending  wor- 
ship in  S ,  when  the  Rev.  Dr.  B arose  and 

said  :  "  A  colored  brother  has  called  on  me  during 
the  past  week,  and  profoundly  interested  me  in  his 
behalf.  He  desires  to  obtain  sufficient  money  to 
send  his  mother  and  sister  to  Liberia.  I  did  not 
see  fit  to  ask  a  general  collection  in  his  behalf,  but, 

at  my  request,  he  will  take  his  stand  at gate, 

on Avenue,  to  receive  whatever  you  may  be 

disposed  to  give,  and  as  Ethiopia  shall  stretch  out 
her  hands,  I  hope  that  you  will  make  a  liberal 
response." 

My  friend  believed  that  his  old  acquaintance  had 


276  Worth  Keeping. 

arrived,  and  sent  a  note  to  the  desk  stating  his  sus- 
picions. The  assisting  clergyman  read,  folded  and 

laid  aside  the  note  to  give  Dr.  B at  the  close 

of  service.  On  seeing  this,  my  friend  quietly  left 
the  church,  went  to  the  gate  mentioned,  found  the 
rogue  as  he  expected,  and  saying :  "  Come  here, 
come  here,  come  round  to  this  gate  —  quick,"  he 
led  him  to  a  rear  gate,  on  another  avenue.  Mean- 
while the  audience  flowed  forth,  looking  in  vain  for 
"Ethiopia."  My  friend  then  found  the  Doctor, 
who  was  introduced  to  the  "  colored  brother,"  and 
convinced  of  his  villainy. 

But  recently,  this  fellow  was  arrested  in  Mon- 
treal, on  the  charge  of  larceny.  For  nearly  a  score 
of  years  he  had  lived  by  deceiving  good  men. 


Recollections  of  Dr.  Kirk.  277 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  DR.  KIRK. 


|T  was  in  New  York  City  in  the  winter  of 
1839-40,  when  I  was  in  the  Union  Theo- 
logical Seminary.  He  came  there  to  labor 
as  an  evangelist.  That  class  of  ministers  was  then 
in  disfavor.  Nettleton  had  been  laid  aside  by  ill- 
health,  Finney  had  the  vague  charge  of  Oberlinism 
lying  at  his  door,  Burchard  was  said  to  be  flighty, 
Horatio  Foote  had  gone  West,  Elder  Knapp  was 
called  rough  and  vulgar.  Many  good  men  were 
feeling  and  saying  that  the  special  influences  of  the 
Spirit  had  been  withdrawn,  and  revivals  were  no 
longer  to  be  expected.  The  labors  of  Kirk  in  New 
York  that  winter  proved  otherwise,  and  did  much 
to  awaken  hope  and  rekindle  the  zeal  of  Christians. 
They  were  specially  helpful  to  the  young  men  in 
the  seminary.  It  was  estimated  that  in  connection 
with  his  labors  and  those  of  Elder  Knapp,  the  Bap- 
tist evangelist,  there  were  a  thousand  conversions 
in  the  city. 

His  manner  of  preaching  was  then  somewhat 
novel.  He  spoke  mainly  without  notes,  using  only 
a  skeleton,  in  a  simple,  direct  style,  with  frequent 
pithy  illustrations,  always  pertinent,  yet  never 


278  Worth  Keeping. 

offending  a  cultivated  taste.  His  voice  was  melo- 
dious, his  manner  graceful,  and,  added  to  all  this 
was  an  unction  and  earnestness  that  at  once 
arrested  and  moved  the  hearer.  Many  of  his  terse 
statements  and  illustrations  afterward  appeared  in 
the  discourses  of  students  who  then  heard  him  and 
unconsciously  repeated  what  had  so  impressed  them. 
Who  can  tell  how  much  Moody  owes  to  Kirk,  his 
first  pastor  ?  His  sentences  were  short,  his  words 
mainly  the  strong  Saxon  which  everybody  under- 
stood, and  so  clearly  did  his  hearers  see  his  ideas 
that  they  seldom  thought  of  his  words. 

Yet  one  memorable  sentence  has  lingered  with 
me  for  nearly  forty  years.  He  was  preaching  in 
the  Mercer  Street  Church,  Dr.  Skinner's.  It  was 
just  after  the  burning  of  the  steamboat  Lexington 
on  the  Sound,  when  nearly  all  the  passengers  per- 
ished ;  some  were  burned,  some  frozen,  and  some 
drowned.  Only  five  or  six  escaped.  The  event 
was  the  sensation  of  the  winter  in  New  York.  Mr. 
Kirk  made  it  preach  to  the  careless  and  pleasure- 
loving  and  mammon-seeking  city.  Having  said 
that  the  confidence  of  skeptics  usually  forsakes 
them  in  near  view  of  death,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Doubt- 
less, many  a  scoffer's  cry  for  mercy  rent  the  heav- 
ens from  the  deck  of  the  Lexington,  when  flame 
and  flood  and  frost  in  God's  name  laid  hold  of  the 
soul,  saying  :  '  Haste  thee  away  to  judgment.'  " 

I  think  never  in  my  life  did  a  single  sentence  so 
thrill  me.  Its  effect  on  a  crowded  sympathizing 


Recollections  of  Dr.  Kirk.  279 

audience,  as  uttered  by  Kirk,  may  be  imagined  by 
those  who  heard  him  in  his  palmiest  days,  but 
by  scarcely  any  one  else.  Could  anybody  amend 
and  improve  it,  or  change  a  word  without  loss  of 
idea  or  force?  I  have  thought  of  it  a  hundred 
times  since,  and  wondered  whether  the  sentence 
burst  from  him  spontaneously,  or  whether  he  had 
carefully  arranged  it  in  his  study. 

Take  a  specimen  of  his  liberal  catholic  spirit. 
The  famous  Elder  Knapp,  as  already  said,  was  in 
the  city  at  the  same  time.  He  was  a  strong  man, 
a  Baptist,  and  more,  a  regular  John  the  Baptist, 
with  a  burly  form,  a  harsh  voice,  uncouth,  and 
almost  vulgar  in  his  style  and  illustrations,  often 
disgusting  cultured  men  and  women.  He  was  the 
antipode  of  Kirk,  with  his  musical  voice,  graceful 
manners,  and  good  taste.  But  Mr.  Kirk  recognized 

a  fellow-laborer  in  the  other  K ,  and  said  to  his 

fastidious  audience :  "  Some  of  you,  to  humble 
your  pride,  may  have  to  go  and  hear  my  dear  rough 
brother  Knapp  preach,  before  you  can  find  salva- 
tion." 

In  a  familiar  talk,  before  a  class  of  theological 
students,  giving  his  own  experience  for  their  ben- 
efit, he  said :  "  My  voice  was  naturally  weak.  My 
first  attempt  at  speaking  before  my  fellow-students 
was  a  failure.  My  utterance  was  so  rapid  and  indis- 
tinct that  I  was  laughed  off  the  stage.  Excessively 
mortified,  I  set  myself  to  learn  How  to  speak.  I 
soon  found  that  some  of  the  sweetest  sounds  of  my 


2  So  Worth  Keeping. 

mother  tongue  I  had  never  made.  By  diligent  prac- 
tice, by  cultivating  musical  tones,  and  by  distinct- 
ness of  articulation  I  have  become  able,  despite  my 
naturally  weak  voice,  to  make  myself  heard  easily 
in  the  largest  churches."  Yes,  even  his  whispers 
could  be  heard  in  the  remotest  part  of  the  house. 
Illustrating  the  value  of  distinctness  rather  than 
loudness,  he  told  this  story :  A  lawyer  wished  to 
destroy  the  testimony  of  a  deaf  witness  before  a 
jury.  So  he  began  his  cross-examination  in  an 
ordinary  tone  of  voice,  but  with  very  great  dis- 
tinctness, like  this  :  "  I  suppose —  sir —  I  —  must 

—  speak  —  very  —  loud  —  or  —  you  —  will  —  not 

—  hear  —  me."    "  Oh  yes !  "  answered  the  witness, 
"  I'm  very  deaf.    You  must  speak  very  loud  indeed, 
or  I  shan't  hear  a  word."    The  lawyer  then  lowered 
his  voice,  but  retained  the  same  distinctness,  till 
he  spoke  only  in  a  whisper,  yet  the  witness  heard 
and    answered   without   the   least   difficulty.      At 
length,  turning  to  the  jury,  he  said  :  "  You  can  see 
for  yourselves  how  much  credit  is  to  be  given  to 
this  witness.     He  pretends  to  be  very  deaf,  yet  he 
hears  all  my  whispers."     And  but  for  the  interfer- 
ence of  the  judge,  who  saw  that  the   honest   old 
man  had  not  discriminated  between  loudness  and 
distinctness,  the  jury  would  have  been  deceived  by 
the  lawyer's  trick. 

However  useful  Dr.  Kirk  may  have  been  in  Bos- 
ton, it  was  a  great  loss  to  the  churches  in  general 
when  he  left  the  work  of  the  evangelist  for  that  of 
the  pastor. 


Over  Eighty   Years  Old.  281 


HOW  A  MAN  OVER  EIGHTY  YEARS  OLD 
FOUND  CHRIST. 


|N  the  month  of  October,  1876,  the  writer 
supplied  an  Orthodox  church  in  a  central 
and  somewhat  famous  agricultural  Massa- 
chusetts town  for  two  Sabbaths.  Entertainment 
was  provided  at  the  house  of  a  prominent  citizen, 
whose  wife,  a  most  godly  woman,  requested  after 
the  first  Sunday  service  that  I  should  visit  her 
father,  living  at  the  other  end  of  the  considerable 
village. 

I  went  with  her  to  his  residence,  and  found  a 
man  eighty-two  years  of  age ;  hair  white  as  snow  ; 
hearing  considerably  impaired ;  voice  broken ;  form, 
once  erect  and  commanding,  now  bent ;  his  body 
more  or  less  under  the  power  of  a  disease  that 
seemed  to  give  to  the  mind  power  of  perception  in 
proportion  as  it  took  from  the  animal  vitality.  He 
had  heard  of  my  coming  to  the  place,  and  of  work 
which  had  been  done  in  the  village  hard  by  the 
spring  previous;  and  he  immediately  professed 
great  thankfulness  that  I  had  called  upon  him. 

Commencing  talk  at  once  upon  the  one  subject, 
he  told  me  that  he  felt  himself  near  his  earthly 


282  Worth  Keeping. 

end ;  that  he  had  no  hope ;  that  he  wanted,  as  he 
thought  above  all  things  else,  to  become  a  Chris- 
tian ;  but  that  he  did  not  know  how.  I  showed 
him,  as  well  as  I  was  able,  the  successive  steps  that 
lead  from  the  plain  of  selfishness  and  sin  up  to  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  and  asked  him  to  do  three  things  : 
read  the  Bible ;  think  upon  this  one  subject,  and 
pray ;  and  after  prayer  with  him  and  for  him,  bade 
him  good-by. 

The  next  Sunday  I  visited  him  again,  and  found 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  had  been  doing  His  blessed 
office-work  in  the  old  man's  heart;  that  he  saw 
himself  a  great  sinner  against  God ;  and  the  bur- 
den of  his  sorrow  came  from  the  fact  that  he  had 
lived  until  he  had  become  a  moss-covered  monu- 
ment of  God's  mercy,  without  ever  having  acknowl- 
edged the  kindness  of  the  King  who  had  forbear- 
ingly  kept  him  ;  and  his  wail  of  agony  was  :  "  God 
will  not  forgive  me ; "  "  God  cannot  forgive  me  ;  " 
"  Why  have  I  abused  His  mercy  ?  "  "  Why  have  I 
wronged  Him  so  long  ? " 

I  told  him  in  slow  simple  words  about  Christ; 
the  old,  old  story ;  that  He  came  from  heaven  to 
earth  to  save  penitent  sinners,  whether  they  had 
sinned  one  year  or  eighty.  But  I  could  not  make 
him  grasp  even  the  possibility  that  he  could  be 
saved ;  and  after  prayer,  I  left  him,  requesting  that 
he  read  every  day  some  part  of  Christ's  history,  as 
found  in  the  New  Testament,  in  addition  to  the 
fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah,  and  to  pray  constantly 
for  the  blessing  that  in  his  heart  he  wanted. 


Over  Eighty   Years  Old,  283 

Three  weeks  afterward  I  was  called  again  to  the 
same  parish,  and  on  Saturday  night  went  to  see 
the  old  man.  He  had  come  slowly  to  feel  that  there 
was  hope  for  even  him,  but  felt  no  relief  from  the 
burden  he  was  constantly  bearing.  He  said  that 
he  had  sincerely  and  persistently  sought  forgive- 
ness, and  to  show  the  sincerity  of  his  desire  to 
honor  Christ,  he  wanted  to  unite  with  the  church, 
so  that  all  his  neighbors  might  know  of  his  new 
fealty.  I  told  him  he  was  not  ready  to  do  that,  but 
there  was  one  thing  he  could  do  that  would  honor 
God  as  well  as  test  his  willingness  to  obey  Him  ; 
and  that  was  to  pray  in  his  family.  He  immedi- 
ately said  that  he  never  prayed  aloud,  and  he  could 
not ;  that  he  could  not  speak  above  a  whisper  any- 
way. I  told  him  that  God  could  hear  a  penitent 
whisper,  and  would,  quicker  than  a  presumptuous 
shouting ;  and,  asking  him  to  begin  the  new  week 
rightly  by  praying  with  his  waiting  wife,  I  left  him. 
The  next  evening  I  saw  him  again.  His  face  had 
upon  it  not  a  look  of  despair,  but  of  unutterable 
sadness.  He  said  he  saw  clearly  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  do  what  had  been  suggested,  but  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  the  doing ;  and  he  therefore 
felt  that  he  might  not  be  sincere  in  his  purpose  to 
serve  God.  I  said  to  him  that  the  morning  .of 
the  golden  Sabbath  had  passed,  but  could  he 
not  begin  that  night  ?  and  then  found  for  him 
these  passages  :  "  Strive  to  enter  in ; "  "  the  King- 
dom of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent 


284  Worth  Keeping; 

take  it  by  force,"  and  then  left  him  to  read  and 
think. 

Monday  night,  having  concluded  to  remain  in  the 
parish  during  the  week,  I  saw  him  again.  And  oh ! 
the  change  in  his  face.  The  look  of  sorrow  gone, 
and  in  its  place  the  illumination  of  Christ's  forgiv- 
ing love!  And  then  he  told  me,  brokenly,  the 
story,  bowing  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  before 
God,  and  audibly  asking  for  forgiveness,  forgive- 
ness, forgiveness  !  And  then  and  there  the  sweet 
consciousness  that  the  sins  of  fourscore  years 
were  washed  away  in  the  Saviour's  atoning  blood. 

I  saw  him  several  times  afterward ;  his  soul  all 
full  of  love  and  peace.  Family  worship  was  main- 
tained ;  and  he  said  he  found  his  greatest  blessing 
where  he  found  his  first  sweet  relief.  He  was  soon 
examined  for  admission  to  the  church  and  accepted, 
but  increasing  disease  prevented  him  from  making 
a  public  profession,  and  in  less  than  three  months 
the  saved  soul  of  the  old  man  was  with  Christ  in 
paradise.  His  death  was  peaceful  —  the  hand  of 
Jesus  under  his  sinking  head. 

Three  lessons  the  experience  of  this  old  man 
taught : 

i.  He  frequently  said,  that  he  heard  a  sermon 
twenty  years  before,  by  whom  and  when  delivered 
he  could  not  tell,  that  had  been  more  or  less  in  his 
mind  ever  since ;  that  he  had  had  twenty  years  of 
a  kind  of  conviction  of  sin,  which  at  length  ended 
in  pardon  and  peace.  Who  that  preacher  was 


Over  Eighty   Years  Old,  285 

eternity  will  reveal.  But  he  was  the  means  of 
awakening  a  feeling  in  that  man's  heart,  that  did 
not,  would  not,  die !  And  for  the  comfort  of  hon- 
est, faithful  toilers  for  the  Master,  it  may  be  safely 
said,  there  are  millions  of  just  such  cases. 

2.  We  who  work  for  Christ  need  patience.     It 
took  the  clogged  mind  of  the  old   man  weeks  to 
perceive  what  some  can  see  at  a  glance ;  and  there 
may  be  young  persons  whose  habits  of  thinking,  or 
not  thinking,  put  them  where  years  had  put  this 
pilgrim. 

3.  Men    are    frequently  willing    to    do    duty 
tomorrow,   who    are    unwilling  to  do  duty  today. 
The  old  man  was  willing  to  unite  with  the  church 
the  next  month,  but  was  unwilling  to  pray  in  his 
family  the  next  minute.    It  is  always,  as  in  his  case, 
present  and  not  future  obedience  that  secures  the 
blessing. 


286  Worth  Keeping. 


CHRISTIAN  WORK. 


IPPORTUNITIES  to  do  work  for  our  Lord 
lie  all  about  us.  I  was  hastening  past  the 
plate-glass  show  window  where  a  young 
man  was  closely  observing  some  pictures.  "  You 
cannot  stop,"  said  the  adversary  who  goes  about  to 
devour ;  but  "  He  who  spake  as  never  man  spake," 
whispered,  "  Return." 

Looking  within  as  the  stranger  was  doing,  I 
said  :  "  Do  you  know  where  that  paper  is  pub- 
lished ?  The  type  is  clear  and  printing  is  well  done 
in  these  days." 

"It  is,  and  just  coming  from  four  years  at  sea  I 
know  how  to  value  books  and  papers." 

"  Four  years  at  sea  ?     You  look  young." 

"Father  died;  mother  with  five  children  must 
have  help,  and  I  entered  the  merchant  service,  sir," 
and  a  pure-faced,  blue-eyed  young  man  looked  up 
at  me. 

"  Where  have  you  sailed  ? " 

"  Many  times  across  the  Atlantic  to  German, 
French  and  Mediterranean  ports,  sir." 

"  Do  you  go  back  to  sea  ?  " 

"  I  never  liked  it.     I'm  now  going  to  tell   my 


Christian    Work.  287 

mother  and  sisters  good-by,  and  start  for  Iowa  to- 
morrow, sir." 

"  You've  laid  up  some  money  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  I  sent  what  I  could  to  mother  and 
have  now  a  few  dollars  for  her,  saving  just  enough 
for  a  second-class  ticket  to  Iowa." 

"  It's  difficult  to  save  money  at  sea,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  At  boarding-houses  we  often  have  to  advance 
money,  and  the  ship  pays,  and  sometimes  we  do 
not  get  the  debt  all  paid  up  till  the  end  of  the 
voyage ;  then  wait  a  month  before  we  can  ship 
again." 

"  Most  of  the  sailors  drink,  smoke  and  swear,  do 
they  not  ? " 

"  Most  of  them  smoke,  but  late  years  they  do  not 
drink  and  curse  as  much.  I've  been  on  two  Chris- 
tian ships,  sir." 

"  What's  a  Christian  ship  ?  " 

"  Meetings  on  Sunday,  sometimes  once  a  week, 
some  good  books  to  read,  and  kindness,  sir." 

"  Some  of  your  companions  are  Christians  ? " 

"  Three  or  four  have  it  in  them,  and  it  comes 
out,  sir." 

"  What  about  your  love  to  Him  who  died  that 
you  may  live  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  feel  that  I'm  forgiven,  and  then,  I 
don't  know  how,  can't  understand  and  don't  get  on 
well,  sir." 

"  Christ  tells  Nicodemus  in  the  third  chapter, 
and  the  woman  at  the  well  in  the  fourth,  of  John, 
just  how  to  repent  and  come  to  Him." 


288  Worth  Keeping. 

"  You  on  shore  with  Sundays,  meetings,  and 
things  standing  still,  can  do  well ;  but  at  sea  we 
are  tossed  and  tumbled  about,  sir." 

"  Look  to  Him  !  "  we  said,  grasping  his  rough 
sailor  hand,  as  in  tremulous  tones,  through  tears, 
he  answered :  "  How  is  it  that  you  feel  such  an 
interest  in  a  sailor  boy,  sir  ? " 

The  talk  ended,  and  the  young  man  went  toward 
his  western  home,  but  who  knows  the  effect  pro- 
duced upon  that  heart,  which  so  warmed  toward 
the  Christian  man  who  was  interested  in  a  stran- 
ger? 


The    True  Heroic.  289 


THE  TRUE  HEROIC. 


HONORS  to  the  heroic !  not  the  blast 

Of  trumpet  for  the  warrior  from  the  field  ; 

But  the  sweet  music  heart  and  conscience  yield 
For  duty  done  ;  the  glittering  falchion  cast 

In  battle's  furnace  sheds  a  wondrous  light, 

But  not  heroic ;  'tis  the  blinking  sight 
Of  Harvest's  sickle  in  the  golden  grain 
Wielded  by  hearts  that  might  have  held  the  reign 

Of  some  great  conquerer  on  his  spot  of  earth 

If  they  had  loved  the  sword!     They  own  true  worth, 
The  true  heroic  !     At  his  humble  plow 

Showed  Cincinnatus  real  glory,  not 

Red  Alexander  in  his  chariot !  lot 
Sublime  the  Heroic  !  stars  are  native  to  its  brow. 

And  not  alone  the  giants  of  our  race  ! 

But  those  that  give  their  widow's  mite,  themselves 
To  aid  in  trouble  !  the  swart  slave  who  delves 

In  mines  for  wife  and  children  !  those  that  face 
The  deadly  pestilence  for  others'  weal ; 
The  scissors-grinder  with  his  lungs  that  steel 

Powders  with  death  ;  the  seamstress  who  works  on 

Through  crawling  midnight  hours  with  cheek  made  wan 

By  wasting  toil !  these  show  their  starry  hearts 
In  trouble,  and  still  strive  when  lesser  souls, 
Gilded  by  fame  or  pleasure,  find  their  goals 

In  earth's  applause  for  deeds  that  own  no  darts 

Of  sacrifice  or  duty  piercing  through 

The  flowers,  that  fawning  praise  and  bending  flattery  strew. 

19 


290  Wort/i  Keeping. 


MARK,  THE  POOR  MAN'S  GOSPEL. 


societies  are  accustomed  to  print  the 
gospels  separately,  for  circulation  in  hea- 
then countries.  If  we  had  the  little  books 
before  us,  we  could  not  fail  to  perceive  how  inferior 
to  the  rest  in  bulk  is  the  Gospel  of  Mark.  We  all 
remember  its  sixteen  chapters,  compared  with  the 
twenty-eight  of  Matthew,  twenty-four  of  Luke,  and 
twenty-one  of  John.  Chapters,  however,  do  not 
truly  indicate  extent  of  narrative,  but  pages  do; 
and  these  have  almost  exactly  the  same  proportion 
of  numbers  as  the  chapters  themselves.  It  appears, 
then,  thaj;  Mark's  Gospel  is  little  more  than  half  as 
long  as  the  two  other  synoptic  narratives.  Can  we 
make  any  conjecture  as  to  the  reason  in  the  divine 
mind  for  this  disproportion  ? 

The  Gospels  were  written,  we  remember,  on 
parchment,  a  costly  material  as  compared  with 
paper ;  and  written  not  in  such  small  letters  as  we 
now  employ,  but  in  far  larger  ones  ;  which,  there- 
fore would  require  many  skins  to  make  a  book  of 
any  length.  Probably  not  more  than  forty  verses, 
even  if  in  double  columns,  could  be  written  on  a 
skin.  The  673  verses  of  Mark  would  therefore 


Mark,  the  Poor  Mans  Gospel.  291 

require  sixteen  skins.  These  could  not  cost  less, 
we  may  suppose,  than  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  apiece ; 
making  four  dollars'  worth  of  parchment  for  the 
whole.  Mark's  Gospel  in  a  Greek  Testament  con- 
tains not  much  less  than  40,000  letters.  If  a  scribe 
could  make  a  thousand  a  day,  with  the  care  neces- 
sary in  those  square  alphabets,  it  would  take  him 
nearly  six  weeks  to  copy  this  Gospel.  If  his  wages 
were  only  fifty  cents  a  day,  they  would  amount  to 
twenty  dollars  in  that  time.  Thus  we  reach  the 
conclusion  that  a  copy  of  Mark,  in  that  age,  would 
be  worth  about  twenty-five  dollars,  or  its  equivalent 
in  money  of  that  time.  How  large  a  proportion  of 
the  early  Christians  would  be  able  to  possess  it  ? 
Much  more  difficult  would  it  be  to  purchase  a 
Gospel  twice  as  long,  even  though  copied  on 
a  cheaper  material. 

I  suppose,  then,  that  this  Gospel  was  made  so 
short  that  it  might  be  cheaper,  and  also  read  in  less 
time ;  so  that  a  larger  number  of  individuals,  or  of 
churches,  might  be  able  to  possess  the  principal 
facts  of  our  Saviour's  history.  It  was  a  sort  of 
primer  of  Gospel  truth,  meant  for  circulation,  not 
indeed  among  the  poor,  but  among  those  who  were 
only  moderately  rich. 

We  might  suppose  that  a  writer  influenced  by 
such  views,  beside  omitting  the  genealogy,  the 
birth,  the  infancy,  the  temptation  and  the  principal 
discourses  of  Christ,  would  choose  for  narration 
such  events  as  were  peculiarly  salient  and  striking 


2  92  Worth  Keeping. 

in  his  life.  A  special  vividness  of  narrative  does, 
indeed,  appear  in  many  of  his  recitals,  suited  to  fix 
attention  and  abide  in  the  memory. 

In  the  account  of  the  Gadarene  demoniac,  while 
the  other  Evangelists  are  content  with  saying  that 
the  unhappy  man  "  abode  in  the  tombs,  without 
clothes,  exceeding  fierce,"  Mark  proceeds  to  tell 
that  "  no  man  could  bind  him,  no,  not  with  chains ; 
because  that  he  had  been  often  bound  with  fetters 
and  chains,  and  the  chains  had  been  plucked  asun- 
der by  him,  and  the  fetters  broken  in  pieces; 
neither  could  any  man  tame  him.  And  always, 
night  and  day,  he  was  in  the  mountains,  and  in  the 
tombs,  crying,  and  cutting  himself  with  stones." 
Nothing  can  exceed  this  description  in  vividness 
and  horror.  Nothing  could  be  better  suited  to  take 
the  attention  of  common  people. 

Very  much  the  same  is  true  in  the  narrative  of 
the  demoniac  healed  just  after  the  transfiguration, 
which  in  Mark  occupies  twice  the  space  given  to  it 
by  the  other  Evangelists.  Nor  is  this  the  languor 
of  an  inferior  writer,  since  every  line  is  full  of 
graphic  touches ;  seeming  to  say  that  the  author's 
own  mind  was  strangely  excited  by  incidents  of  this 
kind. 

We  all  know  how  much  life  is  imparted  to  a  tale 
by  the  mention  of  specific  facts,  which  localize  and 
vivify  an  occurrence.  Such  an  effect  is  produced 
by  Mark's  mention  of  the  "  pillow  in  the  hinder 
part  of  the  ship,"  when  Jesus  slept  in  the  storm  on 


Mark,  the  Poor  Man's  Gospel.  293 

the  lake ;  of  the  "  green  grass,"  on  which  the  mul- 
titude were  told  to  sit  down,  "  company  by  com- 
pany," "  like  leek  beds  ; "  and  of  the  "  executioner" 
(in  Greek,  speculator  or  spiculator),  rather  the 
"guardsman,"  or  spearsman,  or  halberdier,  sent  to 
behead  John  the  Baptist. 

Short  as  this  Gospel  is,  it  is  Mark  alone  who  tells 
us  of  the  blind  man  whom  Jesus  "  took  by  the 
hand,  and  led  him  out  of  the  town ; "  and  of 
the  young  man  who  followed  Jesus  the  night  of  his 
arrest,  "  having  a  linen  cloth  cast  about  his  naked 
body ; "  who  gives  us  the  striking  parable  of  the 
mustard  seed ;  and  who  brings  in  the  Syriac  words, 
"  Ephphatha,"  "  Talitha  cumi." 

All  these  attractive  touches  are  suited  to  a  Gos- 
pel meant  for  common  people,  of  whom  almost  all 
the  world  is  made  up.  Not  that  these  features 
unfit  it  in  the  least  for  superior  minds  ;  but  the 
lower  classes  must  be  made  sure  of,  because  they 
are  the  majority.  Mark  was  "sister's  son  to  Bar- 
nabas," and  lived  in  the  great  house  in  Jerusalem 
to  which  Peter  directed  his  steps  when  liberated  by 
the  angel.  He  was  accustomed  therefore  to  good 
society.  And  yet,  Peter  calls  him  "  Marcus,  my 
son  ; "  implying  peculiar  intimacy.  The  first  act 
of  Jesus,  in  his  public  life,  as  narrated  by  Mark,  is 
the  calling  of  Simon  and  Andrew  from  their  occu- 
pation with  the  net ;  and  the  second  miracle  per- 
formed is  the  healing  of  Simon's  wife's  mother. 
Simon,  the  name  his  mother  gave  him,  not  Peter, 


294  Worth  Keeping. 

is  the  name  used  for  this  Apostle  at  first  by  Mark. 
All  these  things  seem  to  be  indications  of  Peter's 
presence  and  agency  in  the  preparation  of  this 
Gospel.  The  plebeian  origin  and  character  of 
Peter  may  therefore  be  assumed,  in  accordance  with 
tradition,  to  have  influenced  the  selection  of  points 
for  narration,  and  these  characteristic  touches  of 
manner.  And  surely  none  of  the  Apostles  was 
more  suitable  as  the  quasi-author  of  a  poor  man's 
Gospel. 


How  an  Englishman  Gets  Buried.        295 


PIOW  AN  ENGLISHMAN  GETS  BURIED. 


i|NE  of  the  things  which  impresses  you 
strangely,  is  the  fact  that  they  think  so 
much  about  it,  and  so  long  beforehand. 
There  are  societies  innumerable,  all  over  the  land, 
whose  members,  workingmen,  pay  into  their  funds 
eighteen  pence  (about  forty  cents)  a  week ;  and  not 
least  among  the  benefits  thus  secured,  as  they  look 
at  it,  is  the  assurance  of  a  decent  and  respectable 
burial  when  they  die.  A  "  workus  funeral "  is  what 
they  dread.  Nor  will  you  wonder  when  you  have 
witnessed  one.  In  an  outer  section  of  London  I 
have  seen  hearse,  coffin,  pall,  horse  and  driver,  all 
having  the  work-house  mark  so  deeply  indented 
that  it  was  a  sickening  sight.  Two  old  women,  in 
mean,  work-house  garb,  probably  nurses  to  the 
departed,  were  feebly  following  on  foot.  At  a 
corner  of  the  street  a  Punch  and  Judy  show  was 
performing.  It  was  such  a  rare  treat  to  the  poor 
things,  that  they  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 
linger  and  gaze,  while  the  hearse  moved  on,  leaving 
them  to  catch  up  as  best  they  could. 

But   you  will   be  very  much  more  surprised   if 
you  follow  up  inquiries  in  this  direction.     We  will 


296  Worth  Keeping. 

suppose  you  want  to  get  buried  yourself.  Of  course 
you  will  have  secured  the  place,  and  will  have  had 
it  put  in  perfect  readiness  beforehand.  That  is  to 
say,  you  will  have  purchased  your  lot  in  a  cemetery, 
four  feet  by  ten,  more  or  less,  probably  less,  unless 
you  happen  to  be  a  foreigner,  in  which  case  you 
cannot  be  the  holder  of  so  much  real  estate  in  Eng- 
land until  you  shall  have  been  made  a  British  sub- 
ject by  a  parliamentary  act  of  naturalization,  cost- 
ing you  five  hundred  pounds.  This  arranged,  you 
construct  your  grave,  of  brick  and  very  deep,  a 
family  grave  or  vertical  tomb.  All  is  finished  and 
ready  for  use,  being  closed  at  the  top  and  sealed 
with  covering  of  flat  stone.  In  due  time  you  come 
to  seek  admission  for  yourself.  You  are  met  at 
the  threshold  by  an  official  who  demands  an 
entrance  fee  of  one  guinea  to  ten  guineas,  or  more, 
according  to  your  respectability,  and  the  quality  of 
your  grave.  This  is  a  perquisite  of  the  company, 
if  the  cemetery  belongs  to  a  company ;  and  of  the 
clergyman  or  minister,  if  the  cemetery  is  an 
appendage  of  a  church  or  chapel.  I  believe  a 
guinea  is  the  lowest  sum  demanded,  though  it  be 
for  a  child  a  day  old.  And  this  charge  is  repeated 
as  often  as  the  grave  is  opened  to  receive  a  new 
inmate.  It  is  the  minister's  fee  for  giving  you 
leave  to  open  your  own  grave.  This  makes  up 
only  a  part  of  the  very  large  income  which  often 
accrues  to  the  incumbent  of  a  parish  church  from 
the  graveyard.  Many  of  the  interments  are  in 


Plow  an  Englishman  Gets  Buried.        297 

common  graves  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  very  deep  grave 
is  opened,  without  bricks,  and  body  after  body  is 
interred,  from  different  families,  a  round  fee  being 
paid  to  the  minister  for  each,  until  the  graves  can 
contain  no  more. 

I  have  seen  the  coffin  containing  the  remains  of 
a  most  honored  and  beloved  deacon  of  a  Congre- 
gational church,  with  so  shallow  a  covering  of  earth 
that  great  care  was  taken  to  keep  it  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  widow.  And  all  those  full  graves 
are  still  the  property  of  the  church,  and  they  have 
all  been  filled  and  emptied  many  times  ;  for  just  as 
fast  as  the  remains  are  sufficiently  "  earth  to  earth, 
and  dust  to  dust,"  they  are  taken  out,  and  huddled 
into  a  common  vault  in  a  retired  section  of  the 
ground.  The  cemetery  in  which  the  honored 
deacon  was  interred,  is  in  the  beautiful  village  of 
Wyke  Regis,  on  the  south  coast,  and  is  the  append- 
age of  a  very  fine  old  stone  church,  with  a  tower 
rising  so  high  that  it  seems  as  a  landmark  to  vessels 
at  sea.  The  cemetery  is  enclosed  by  a  wall  of 
faced  stone,  about  three  feet  high.  As  Wyke 
Regis  is  the  ecclesiastical  mother  of  the  adjacent 
parish  of  Weymouth,  a  popular  watering  place,  the 
interments  have  been  very  numerous  for  a  succes- 
sion of  generations,  and  in  this  way,  with  the 
repeated  emptying  and  refilling  of  the  graves, 
the  surface  has  been  gradually  raised  till  it  is 
nearly  even  with  the  top  of  the  wall.  Thus  there 
is  a  deep  covering  of  rich  mold,  in  which  is  a 


298  Worth  Keeping. 

large  admixture  of  human  dust.  The  grass  is  very 
green,  and  has  a  tendency  to  so  rank  a  growth  that 
it  requires  frequent  cropping  down.  I  have  often 
seen  splendid  Southdowns  feeding  there,  and  the 
thought  would  come  of  itself  that  it  was  a  very 
possible  thing  for  a  man  to  dine  off  of  his  own 
grandfather. 

I  have  said  that  you  pay  for  the  privilege  of  lying 
down  in  your  own  grave  "  one  guinea  to  ten  guineas, 
or  more!'  In  the  ground  of  which  I  have  been 
speaking  is  a  large  vault,  belonging  to  a  family  of 
wealth  and  high  position,  which  has  been  many 
years  absent  from  the  place.  After  a  long  period, 
application  was  made  to  the  rector  of  the  parish, 
for  permission  to  open  it  for  the  reception  of  a 
member  of  the  family.  Such  permission  was  very 
cheerfully  granted  on  payment  of  a  fee  of  forty 
guineas.  This  was  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
rule  in  such  a  case  made  and  provided.  And  not 
so  very  extortionate,  either,  if  you  will  consider  it ; 
for  that  vault  had  brought  no  income  to  the  rector 
for  a  long  time  ;  whereas  if  the  ground  had  been 
at  liberty,  there  was  room  for  several  graves,  which 
might  have  been  filled  and  emptied  more  than  once, 
perhaps,  so  realizing  a  total  sum  of  more  than  forty 
guineas  to  the  minister. 

This  same  rector  in  the  Established  Church  of 
England  has  the  absolute  right  to  decide  what  shall 
be  the  inscription  on  your  tombstone.  Neither 
does  he  hesitate  to  exercise  this  right,  if  so 


How  an  EnglisJiman  Gets  Buried.        299 

disposed.  Not  long  since  a  little  girl  died  and 
was  buried  by  the  parish  church.  The  sorrowing 
father  had  a  headstone  prepared  with  the  following 
inscription : 

"  In  loving  memory  of  Annie  Augusta  Keet,  the  youngest 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  H.  Keet,  Wesleyan  minister ;  who  died 
at  Owston  Ferry,  May  n,  1874.  '  Safe  sheltered  from  the 
storms  of  life.' " 

The  Rev.  G.  E.  Smith,  vicar  of  the  parish,  for- 
bade the  bringing  of  the  stone  into  the  yard, 
unless  "  Rev."  and  "  Wesleyan  minister "  were 
stricken  out !  Whereupon  the  father  addressed 
the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  in  whose  diocese  these 
things  are  taking  place,  and  received  for  answer 
that  the  vicar  is  not  exceeding  his  proper  powers. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Keet  next  seeks  redress  from  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Primate  of  all  England, 
who  replies  very  kindly  and  courteously  and  cau- 
tiously ;  does  not  feel  called  on  to  give  an  opinion 
as  to  the  legal  question,  but  thinks  the  objection 
urged  by  the  Rev.  G.  E.  Smith  ought  not  to  be 
made,  and  will  be  surprised  if  the  Bishop  of  Lin- 
coln does  not  coincide  with  him.  Back  again  to 
the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  goes  the  sorrowing  father, 
to  sue  for  permission  to  place  the  stone  he  has  pre- 
pared over  the  grave  of  his  dear  child,  and  gets  in 
reply  an  elaborate  deliverance  of  the  prelate,  show- 
ing him  that  he  is  not  "  reverend,"  nor  "  a  minister," 
in  any  sense  which  a  Bishop  of  the  Established 


3OO  Worth  Keeping. 

Church  can  recognize ;  and  that  to  permit  such  a 
misstatement  of  facts  to  be  engraven  on  stone 
within  the  consecrated  precincts  of  a  parochial 
burying  ground,  would  be  a  grave  dereliction  on 
the  part  of  bishop  or  vicar  in  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. 

The  case  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Keet  and  his  dead 
child  is  a  sample  of  occurrences  which  are  slowly, 
yet  surely,  working  great  changes  in  English  eccles- 
iastical affairs.  The  practical  lesson  from  all  which 
is  that,  whatever  other  things  we  may  need,  we  can 
do  very  well  without  a  State  church. 


The  Chinese  in  California.  301 


THE  CHINESE  IN  CALIFORNIA. 


|E  have  seen  Chinatown  in  San  Francisco 
by  day  and  by  night ;  above  ground  and 
below,  and  find  that  a  host  of  calumnies  in 
regard  to  the  Mongolian  working  men  and  mer- 
chants are  refuted  by  a  close  study  of  facts  at  first 
hand. 

In  a  Chinese  restaurant  of  the  higher  class,  we 
sat  down  at  a  round  table  to  fruit  cakes,  olives  and 
several  other  kinds  of  dried  fruits,  and  to  very  deli- 
cious tea.  This  was  served  without  milk  or  sugar, 
and  was  made  by  placing  the  tea  in  the  bottom  of 
each  individual's  cup,  and  pouring  over  it  boiling 
water.  The  tea  itself  is  never  allowed  to  boil.  A 
saucer  is  inverted  over  the  tea  in  each  cup,  and  the 
liquid  is  turned  out  into  a  tiny  cup  for  drinking. 

Three  Chinese  gentlemen  were  in  the  company, 
and  were  certainly  equal  in  manners  to  any  of  their 
companions.  They  were  much  amused  at  the 
gradual  attainment,  on  our  part,  of  triumph  in 
the  use  of  chop  sticks.  We  were  shown  the  kitchen 
in  the  restaurant,  and  the  rooms  for  cheap  meals, 
and  were  impressed  with  the  neatness  of  the  place 
and  the  variety  of  the  food. 


302  Worth  Keeping. 

In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  average  Chinese 
working  men  are  cleanlily  dressed.  Their  white 
stockings  were,  to  us,  a  perpetual  amazement.  Over 
and  over,  we  saw  Mongolian  laundrymen  with  bas- 
kets on  their  backs,  and  with  singularly  stainless 
white  hose.  The  rafts  on  which  a  large  portion  of 
the  river  population  of  China  live  are  often  white- 
washed, and  so  are  the  little  huts  of  the  poorer 
classes. 

We  visited  several  private  houses  in  which  we 
were  received  with  cordiality,  and  where  we  found 
only  neatness  and  thrift,  although,  in  no  case,  a 
social  position  above  that  in  which  slatternliness  is 
common  enough  among  European  emigrants.  The 
homes  we  entered  were  those  of  Christian  Chinese. 
In  one  of  them  we  found  a  little  babe,  of  whom 
the  whole  neighborhood,  we  were  told,  was  particu- 
larly proud,  although  its  rights  as  a  native  born 
American  are  few  and  uncertain. 

Mr.  Gibson,  the  foremost  friend  of  the  Chinese 
in  San  Francisco,  was  received  with  evident  affec- 
tion in  all  the  Chinese  homes,  and  especially  among 
his  scholars  at  the  Methodist  Chinese  Mission 
House.  This  building  has  been  preserved  from 
incendiary  fires  only  by  the  heroism  of  its  occu- 
pants and  the  friendliness  of  all  its  immediate 
neighbors.  We  sat  in  Mr.  Gibson's  parlor,  and  felt 
that  we  were  in  the  house  of  a  hero  who  needs  no 
better  indorsement  than  the  fact  of  his  being 
burned  in  effigy  and  threatened  with  mobs  by  the 


The  Chinese  in  California.  303 

Kearneyite  roughs,  while  he  is  universally  beloved 
by  all  good  men.  Even  the  virulent  anti-Chinese 
press  in  San  Francisco,  admits  that  his  book  on 
"  The  Chinese  in  America,"  is  a  candid  and  able 
discussion  of  its  topic.  Senator  Morton  was  in 
entire  agreement  with  Otis  Gibson  on  the  Chinese 
question  ;  and  so,  indeed,  is  the  most  efficient  part 
of  the  whole  church  on  the  Pacific  coast. 

We  visited  the  rooms  of  the  six  Chinese  Com- 
panies, and  noticed  the  ebony  tea  stands  and 
chairs,  the  gilded  mottoes  and  the  long  robe  of 
one  of  the  Presidents,  to  whom  we  were  intro- 
duced. We  were  assured  by  the  officers  at  these 
rooms  that  Chinese  working  men  make  no  ser- 
vile contracts  with  the  companies,  and  that  there 
are  no  coolies  or  serfs  in  California.  The  same 
assurance,  which  agrees  entirely  with  Senator 
Morton's  report,  came  to  us  from  missionaries, 
lawyers,  preachers,  and  all  reputable  quarters  in 
San  Francisco. 


The  Chinese  question  is  really  whether  the 
monopoly  of  low-paid  labor  shall  be  given  to 
the  Irish  and  other  foreign  elements,  or  shall  be 
divided  with  the  Chinamen  ?  If  the  Chinamen 
now  in  San  Francisco  were  expelled,  wages  would 
go  up  again,  not  to  the  hight  at  which  they  stood 
in  the  gold  period,  but  far  higher  than  they  are 
now.  At  present  they  are  conspicuously  higher 


304  Worth  Keeping. 

than  they  are  in  the  East.  There  was  a  day  in 
California  when  the  average  working  man  was  paid 
ten  dollars  for  ten  hours  of  labor,  and  eggs  cost 
twenty-five  cents  apiece.  The  time  has  now  come 
when  the  Chinaman  receives  about  what  we  pay 
white  laborers  in  the  East. 

John  Chinaman  has  not  displaced  anybody.  He 
has  filled  up  gaps.  White  men,  let  us  suppose, 
abandon  a  mine  when  it  will  not  pay  three  dollars 
a  day  to  each  laborer.  In  comes  John  Chinaman, 
and  is  content  with  two  dollars  a  day,  and  he  works 
the  mine.  Has  he  displaced  the  miner  who  aban- 
dons the  mine  ?  He  has  taken  his  place,  but  he 
has  only  filled  up  a  vacancy. 

If  a  man  wishes  to  start  a  woolen  factory,  and 
must  pay  three  dollars  a  day  for  labor,  he  sees  he 
cannot  do  it  in  San  Francisco  and  compete  with 
Lowell  and  Lawrence.  In  comes  John  Chinaman, 
and  can  be  hired  for  a  price  at  which  it  will  pay  to 
manufacture  woolen  goods  on  the  Pacific  slope. 
The  Irishman  with  the  pick-axe  and  the  hod  does 
part  of  the  work  of  putting  up  the  factory,  and 
there  is  work  made  in  various  ways  for  all  the 
higher  grades  of  labor  by  the  coming  in  of  laborers 
at  prices  that  permit  profit.  The  Pacific  slope 
needs  diversification  of  labor,  and  the  Chinaman 
has  helped  supply  this  need.  Wages  will  come  to 
a  level  on  the  Pacific  slope,  and  manufacturing  will 
start  up  in  California. 

The  fact  that   100,000  Chinamen  find  constant 


The  Chinese  in  California.  305 

employment  on  the  Pacific  coast  at  a  respectable 
rate  of  remuneration,  is  proof  that  they  are  needed 
there.  A  man  who  employs  Chinamen  is  to  be 
counted  as  in  favor  of  Chinese  immigration.  If 
140,000  votes  should  be  cast  against  Chinese  immi- 
gration in  California,  it  would  yet  be  true  that  the 
majority  are  really  in  favor  of  it,  because  more  than 
70,000  people  in  California  employ  Chinamen.  The 
newspapers  of  San  Francisco  do  not  properly  rep- 
resent the  feelings  of  the  best  classes  of  society 
there  on  the  Chinese  question. 

Many  people  are  of  the  opinion  that  we  are  in 
danger  of  a  Mongolian  deluge.  .When  the  sky 
falls  we  shall  catch  larks ;  but  we  do  not  see  any 
danger  of  its  falling,  and  do  not  want  Congress  to 
set  traps  for  larks  yet. 

The  most  important  query  on  the  Chinese  prob- 
lem appears  to  be,  not  what  is  popular,  but  what  is 
inevitable.  We  hold  that  it  is  inevitable  that  the 
Pacific  slope  will  reach  one  third  of  the  way  around 
the  globe  for  the  teas  and  silks  of  China  and  Japan, 
rather  than  three  quarters  of  the  way  around  it  in 
the  other  direction  through  England  and  India  for 
the  same  things.  We  shall  inevitably  become  the 
chief  commercial  rival  of  England  in  the  immense 
trade  of  the  Orient.  It  is  inevitable  that  great 
commercial  considerations  will  require  that  the 
treaties  of  the  United  States  with  China  should 
secure,  as  they  now  do,  to  American  citizens  resid- 
ing there,  equal  rights  with  those  of  any  other 

20 


306  Worth  Keeping. 

foreigners  residing  there.  International  law  and 
the  public  sentiment  of  the  world  will  justify  China 
in  refusing  to  Americans  in  China  the  rights  of  the 
most  favored  nation  there,  if  the  United  States 
refuse  to  the  Chinese  in  America  the  rights  of  the 
most  favored  nation  here.  It  is  highly  important 
for  us  to  cultivate  relations  of  peace  with  China, 
and  to  treat  her  in  every  respect  with  the  same 
justice  that  we  exercise  in  the  case  of  other 
nations.  Japan  is  growing  in  importance.  The 
reforms  there  will  be  caught  up  in  China  ultimately. 
A  not  distant  future  will  witness  the  introduction 
of  railroads,  and  telegraphs,  and  newspapers,  and 
schools,  into  Japan  and  China.  The  regeneration 
of  Asia  is  a  great  event,  approaching  us  with  a 
tread  which  will  produce  reverberations  long  after 
present  generations  are  forgotten,  and  which  already 
causes  tremor  in  the  soil  of  the  Pacific  slope.  We 
believe  that  it  immensely  concerns  America  to  keep 
step  with  the  colossal  movement,  for  it  is  doubtless 
God's  plan  for  the  religious  education  of  an  empire 
that  was  old  when  Greece  was  young. 


White   Violets.  307 


WHITE  VIOLETS. 


YEARS  since,  when  first  this  little  one  — 
This  child,  with  color  of  the  sun 
Upon  her  head,  and  in  her  eyes 
The  glad,  awakening  surprise 
Of  senses  new  to  all  things  sweet  — 
Had  learned  to  walk,  I  taught  her  feet 
To  love  the  meadow  ways  that  spread 
Such  a  soft  carpet  to  her  tread. 

One  path  we  knew,  where  we  could  find 
Beside  the  brook,  and  hidden  behind 
The  tallest  grasses,  oh,  such  sweet 
White  violets  !     Their  shy  retreat 
Was  cool  and  wet,  even  when  the  sun 
Was  high  and  hot ;  and  every  one 
Her  fingers  plucked  so  lovingly 
Seemed  like  her  own  pure  self  to  me. 

Who  planted  them,  and  made  them  grow, 
Such  crowds  of  them,  she  wished  to  know. 
"  God  did  it ;  He  does  everything," 
I  said.     "  He  teaches  birds  to  sing, 
And  shows  them  where  to  find  their  food; 
He  teaches  children  to  be  good ; 
He  watches  even  these  violets  ; 
He  never  fails  —  never  forgets ! " 


308  Worth  Keeping. 

Later,  we  sought  the  self-same  spot 
For  the  sweet  flowers,  but  found  them  not. 
With  ready  eyes  and  eager  face 
She  roamed  about  the  favorite  place. 
Above  us  yellow  orioles  swung  ; 
About  us  scores  of  bobolinks  sung ; 
Until,  at  last,  grown  tired  and  hot, 
I  heard  her  sigh,  "  God  has  forgot !  " 

Just  then,  down  by  the  water's  side, 
A  large  white  cluster  I  espied, 
Half  covered  in  their  cosy  nook 
With  the  long  grasses  of  the  brook. 
Grieved  that  her  baby  faith  was  weak, 
I  pointed  to  them  —  did  not  speak. 
.She  saw,  and  cried,  as  quick  as  thought, 
In  glad  surprise,  "  God  hasn't  forgot !  " 


"START  RIGHT." 


THE  other  day  I  saw  at  a  railroad  station  two 
advertisements  for  some  Western  road,  which 
attracted  my  attention.  The  two  differed  only  in 
the  color  of  the  pasteboard.  At  the  head  of  each 
was  a  human  hand,  with  the  fore-finger  outstretched, 
pointing  authoritatively.  On  the  palm  of  the  hand 
was  printed,  in  clear  type,  "  Start  Right." 

But  the  deeper  meaning!  Those  travelers  on 
that  longer  road  !  That  fast  express  !  The  eternal 
destinies  !  The  many  lurements  enticing  to  the 
wrong  road  !  "  Start  Right;"  yes,  start  right;  and 
having  started  right,  hold  on  to  the  end. 


He  watches  even  these  violets." 


Page  307. 


Writing  Down  the  Bible.  309 


WRITING  DOWN  THE  BIBLE. 


|N  one  of  the  winter  vacations  of  my  college 
course,  when  I  was  teaching  school  in  a 
rural  district  and  "boarding  around,"  I 
heard  from  the  Christian  people  of  the  neighbor- 
hood many  stories  of  an  old  man  in  one  of  the 
families  who  possessed  a  wonderful  knowledge  of 
the  Bible.  He  could  "  quote  it,"  the  country  folk 
said,  "from  beginning  to  end;"  and  he  could 
explain  it  in  a  way  that  put  to  shame  professional 
exegetes.  The  faith  of  this  expounder  of  the 
Word  was  that  of  the  "  Univarsalers,"  as  some  of 
his  neighbors  expressed  it ;  and  orthodox  disput- 
ants stood  greatly  in  awe  of  him. 

I  confess  that  when,  in  that  course  of  human 
events  which  makes  up  the  life  of  a  country  school- 
master, it  became  necessary  for  me  to  seek  a  shel- 
ter in  the  home  inhabited  by  this  venerable  contro- 
versialist, I  went  with  considerable  trepidation.  I 
was  told  that  he  would  surely  bring  his  batteries  to 
bear  upon  my  theology,  and  although  I  had  studied 
the  Bible  from  my  childhood,  I  felt  myself  quite 
unable  to  cope  with  a  veteran  expositor  of  so  great 
fame. 


310  Worth  Keeping. 

I  was  not  misinformed  concerning  the  readiness 
of  the  old  gentleman  to  engage  in  controversy. 
He  knew  that  I  was  studying  for  the  ministry,  and 
a  theological  tussle  with  "the  master"  was  there- 
fore among  the  things  decreed.  No  sooner  was  the 
supper  finished,  and  the  cloth  removed,  than  the 
examination  of  the  candidate  was  proceeded  with. 
At  first  I  answered  evasively,  indicating  my  unwil- 
lingness to  be  led  into  any  dispute  ;  but  before  long 
the  old  gentleman  developed  his  own  position, 
and  I  began  to  listen  with  interest,  and  to  question 
him.  The  theological  system  thus  discovered  was 
certainly  a  remarkable  one.  My  philosopher  and 
prophet  was,  as  I  had  been  told,  a  Universalist ; 
but  the  school  to  which  he  belonged  was  one  of 
which  I  have  found  no  other  representative.  Briefly 
stated,  his  theory  was  that  the  judgment  and  the 
resurrection  took  place  at  the  time  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem;  that  then  "all  nations "  were 
gathered  together  in  Palestine,  and  that  the 
righteous  were  separated  from  the  wicked  as 
the  shepherd  divideth  his  sheep  from  the  goats ; 
that  the  wicked  then  went  away  into  everlasting 
punishment,  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal ; 
and  that  since  that  day  we  are  living  in  a  gospel 
age  ;  and  all  who  are  born  are  redeemed  and  saved 
by  the  blood  of  Christ.  Sinners  who  lived  before 
the  judgment,  that  is  to  say,  the  destruction:  of 
Jerusalem,  are  therefore  now,  and  will  be  forever, 
in  endless  misery ;  salvation  is  universal  only  for 


Writing  Down  the  Bible.  311 

those  who  have  lived  since  that  day,  and  those  who 
are  to  live  hereafter. 

Such  was  the  theory,  and  as  my  aged  inquisitor 
unfolded  it,  I  began  to  be  curious  about  its  Scrip- 
tural foundations.  Doubtless  he  must  be  resting 
this  theory,  which  he  so  confidently  broached,  upon 
a  wide  induction  of  Scripture.  I  asked  for  his 
proofs,  and  he  told  me  that  there  was  a  single 
passage  which  established  his  doctrine  beyond  all 
questioning.  It  was  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  John's 
Gospel,  the  twenty-eighth  and  twenty-ninth  verses. 
Bringing  me  his  old  Bible,  thumbed  and  yellow  in 
the  leaves  which  enclosed  this  text,  he  laid  his 
finger  upon  it  and  asked  me  triumphantly  whether 
that  was  not  enough.  I  did  not  at  once  perceive 
the  application,  and  he  therefore  proceeded  with 
his  exegesis  : 

"  Marvel  not  at  this  :  for  the  hour  is  coming  in 
the  which  ('  the '  was  emphasized  in  his  reading) 
all  that  are  in  their  graves  shall  hear  His  voice  and 
shall  come  forth  ;  they  that  have  done  good,  unto 
the  resurrection  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done 
evil  unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation." 

"The  hour  is  coming  in  the;"  said  the  good 
man.  "  That  means  '  in  thy  day.'  He  was  talking 
to  his  disciples  and  the  Jews.  It  was  in  their  day, 
therefore,  that  the  dead  in  their  graves  were  to 
hear  the  voice  of  God  and  come  forth  —  the  good 
to  the  resurrection  of  life,  and  the  evil  to  the  resur- 
rection of  damnation.  It  was  in  the,  that  is  in 


312  Worth  Keeping. 

their  generation,  that  the  resurrection  and  the 
judgment  were  to  occur.  They  did  occur  when  'all 
nations '  were  gathered  at  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem. Therefore  we  are  living  after  the  judgment, 
and  therefore  there  is  no  condemnation  for  us ;  but 
in  Christ  we  are  all  made  alive,  and  saved  with  an 
everlasting  salvation." 

After  a  few  moments  of  silent  admiration  of  this 
astonishing  exegesis,  I  inquired  whether  there  were 
any  other  texts  confirming  this  view.  He  did  not 
know  of  any,  but  asked  if  this  one  did  not  suffi- 
ciently prove  it.  Then  I  took  the  dictionary  and 
showed  him  the  difference  between  the  article 
"  the,"  and  the  pronoun  "  thee,"  explaining  as  well 
as  I  could  the  grammatical  construction,  and  show- 
ing him  that  his  text  could  not  be  read  as  he  had 
read  it,  without  making  nonsense  of  it.  The  old 
gentleman  was  at  first  inclined  to  treat  my  sugges- 
tions with  scorn  ;  but  he  did  at  last  consent  to  look 
at  the  dictionary,  and  at  the  difference  between 
"  the  "  and  "  thee  "  as  I  pointed  them  out  to  him  in 
the  Testament ;  and  when  at  last  I  asked  him 
whether  he  would  not  have  thought  it  hard  usage 
if,  when  he  invited  me  to  "  walk  into  the  house," 
I  had  interpreted  "  the  "  to  mean  "  thy,"  and  had 
taken  possession,  and  endeavored  to  turn  him  out 
of  doors,  he  began  to  get  a  glimpse  of  a  distinction 
between  the  words  which  had  never  before  dawned 
on  him.  But  the  revelation  brought  to  the  worthy 
man  nothing  but  pain.  He  took  his  old  Bible,  and 


Writing  Down  the  Bible.  313 

read  over  and  over,  in  a  dazed  and  dejected  way, 
the  familiar  passage  on  which  his  whole  theological 
system  had  rested,  and  finally  shutting  up  the  book 
with  some  emphasis,  he  laid  it  upon  the  table  and 
said,  half  wrathfully  and  half  grievingly:  "Well, 
if  that  is  so,  I  may  just  as  well  throw  my  Bible  into 
the  fire!" 

How  it  fared  with  his  theology  after  this  I  never 
knew ;  probably  his  confidence  in  the  theory  of 
which  he  had  so  long  been  the  champion  soon 
recovered  from  the  shock  which  the  dictionary  gave 
it,  and  reenforced  by  a  little  will-power  became 
stronger  than  ever.  The  faith  of  a  lifetime  is  not 
often  brushed  aside  by  a  mere  orthographical  dis- 
crepancy ;  and  the  man  whose  constructive  genius 
is  so  large  that  he  can  build  a  theological  system 
upon  a  particle  of  speech,  is  not  a  man  to  be 
daunted  by  the  dictionary. 

This  little  episode  in  my  schoolmastering  has 
always  stood  in  my  thought  for  an  illustration  of 
the  fact  that  great  reputations,  as  well  as  great 
theological  systems,  sometimes  rest  upon  very 
slender  foundations. 

The  good  man's  distress  at  finding  his  long 
unquestioned  interpretation  of  a  text  so  rudely 
challenged,  was  not,  however,  then,  nor  has  it  ever 
been,  a  mere  matter  of  sport  to  me.  I  was  sorry 
for  his  perplexity.  I  knew  that  he  felt  that  I  had 
personally  injured  him.  The  Bible  was  chiefly  val- 
uable to  him  because  it  contained  that  text ;  and 


314  Worth  Keeping. 

that  text  was  precious  to  him  because  it  seemed  to 
him  to  sustain  a  belief  to  which  he  had  committed 
all  the  energies  of  his  soul;  and  my  criticism  was 
threatening  to  take  the  very  ground  from  under  his 
feet.  No  words  could  have  expressed  his  feeling 
but  the  words  of  the  Psalmist :  "  If  the  foundations 
be  destroyed,  what  shall  the  righteous  do  ? "  And 
no  doubt  he  regarded  these  objections  of  mine  to 
his  theory  as  a  wanton  assault  upon  the  Bible 
itself.  It  is  always  so.  Question  a  man's  exegesis, 
and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  he  will  denounce  you 
for  attacking  the  Bible.  Show  him  that  by  his 
own  blunders  of  spelling,  or  of  syntax,  he  is  read- 
ing a  doctrine  into  the  Sacred  Word  that  never 
was  revealed  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  he  will  cry 
out  that  you  are  "  writing  down  the  Bible."  Such 
is  the  egotism  of  dogmatism. 


The  Babys  Dresses.   •  315 


THE  BABY'S  DRESSES. 


WE  folded  smooth  the  little  dress, 

Creased  with  our  darling's  latest  wear ; 
We  set  the  tiny  boots  beside, 

Dear  molds  of  feet  so  plump  and  fair; 
We  dropped  a  golden  curl  along 

The  band  that  held  it,  wet  with  tears, 
And  left  the  silken  sash  a-knot, 

As  ofttimes  tied  these  last  two  years. 
His  "baby  "  pin  still  caught  its  folds, 

And  half  soiled  sacque  for  chilly  days 
Filled  heart  and  arms  with  longing  ache, 

For  all  his  winsome  precious  ways. 
Ah  !  who  shall  say  what  vigils  lone, 

Looking  through  tears,  his  mother  holds 
Above  the  garments,  which,  though  gone, 

Hold  still  her  baby  in  their  folds  1 

We  stood  beside  his  lovelier  dress  — 

God's  own  fair  garment  given  the  boy, 
Which,  all  his  two  sweet  years  on  earth, 

Had  been  our  never-failing  joy. 
We  laid  it  'mid  the  lily  blooms 

Lining  the  casket  waiting  near, 
And  thought,  "It  is  as  white  as  they; 

'  Sweets  to  the  sweet,'  most  fitting  here." 
He  needs  this  beauteous  robe  no  more ; 

And  so  we  lay  it  safe  away, 
Its  soft  fair  outlines  rounded  still 

By  the  dear  spirit  gone  today. 


316  Worth  Keeping. 


HINDERING  INQUIRERS. 


|HEN  I  was  a  boy,  there  was  a  protracted 
meeting  and  a  revival  in  our  church.  My 
parents  talked  and  prayed  with  me,  and  at 
length  I  went  into  the  inquiry-meeting  under  deep 
concern.  I  remember  I  sat  leaning  against  a  pillar 
in  the  pew,  weeping.  There  had  come  to  help  our 
minister  a  neighboring  pastor,  widely  known  and 
honored  then  and  now.  Kneeling  on  the  seat  in 
front,  he  leaned  over  toward  me  kindly,  and  in  a 
low  voice  talked  long  and  earnestly  with  me. 
What  he  said  was  doubtless  well  said.  But  he  who 
would  guide  an  inquiring  soul,  with  the  Holy 
Spirit's  aid,  must  first  explain  faith,  and  then  help 
the  soul  to  exercise  it.  This  impulse  toward  Christ 
my  friend  was  not  giving  me.  He  was  holding  me 
back  by  one  strong,  overpowering  argument,  from 
the  course  to  which  he  urged  me. 

He  did  precisely  the  same  thing,  once  again, 
years  afterward,  when  also  he  was  making  a  per- 
sonal appeal  to  me,  on  another  practical  question ; 
the  only  two  instances  in  my  life  when  he  thus 
closely  pressed  me.  I  was  a  student  in  theology 
at  Andover,  on  my  way  home  in  the  cars,  seated 


Hindering  Inquirers.  317 

i    • 

next  the  window  with  a  companion.  The  clergy- 
man was  passing  through  the  cars,  and,  recognizing 
me,  came  and  knelt  in  the  seat  in  front  of  me,  and 
leaning  over  toward  me,  in  a  low  voice  very  kindly 
urged  me,  when  I  left  the  seminary,  to  come  back 
and  join  the  old  Presbytery,  where  my  father  was 
the  oldest  surviving  Elder. 

In  both  cases,  his  appeals  were  ineffectual.  I 
did  not  leave  the  Congregational  church,  and,  what 
is  of  far  greater  moment,  it  was  not  till  years  after 
that  fatal  inquiry-meeting  —  years  of  weary  wan- 
dering and  of  endless  loss  —  that  at  last  I  came  to 
Christ.  The  delay  was  my  own  wicked  act,  no 
doubt ;  but  I  often  think,  oh !  if  I  had  only  begun 
then,  when  my  indifference  was  for  once  broken 
up,  what  a  gain  it  would  have  been  !  Why  did 
that  good  man,  in  that  solemn  hour,  hinder  the 
soul  he  tried  to  aid  ? 

I  solemnly  aver  that  the  only  thing  of  which  I 
was  distinctly  conscious,  in  either  interview,  was 
the  hot,  steaming,  reeking  smell  of  tobacco.  I  was 
helpless,  overpowered.  The  church  pillar  would 
not  move,  hard  as  I  crowded  back  against  it.  The 
car  window  would  not  open,  furiously  as  I  tugged 
to  lift  it.  And  how  near  he  was!  And  how  long 
he  talked  !  And —  I  grow  faint  sometimes  now  at 
the  thought  of  my  feelings  then. 

At  family  prayers  this  morning  we  read  the  thir- 
tieth chapter  of  Exodus,  and  a  little  boy  wanted  to 
know  what  was  the  good  of  his  reading  so  carefully 


318  Worth  Keeping. 

about  all  those  old  candlesticks  and  lavers  of 
the  Jews.  And  so,  after  we  were  through,  I 
preached  a  little  sermon  about  the  "  sweet  spices," 
and  the  "laver  "  "  for  Aaron  and  his  sons,  to  wash 
with  water,  that  they  die  not,  when  they  come  near 
to  the  altar  to  minister,  a  statute  forever  to  him  and 
his  seed  throughout  their  generations."  A  good 
text  for  such  sermons  is  the  divine  command :  "  Be 
ye  clean  that  bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord." 

Yet  let  us  have  no  bigotry  on  this  subject.  It 
was  hardly  a  wise  thing  to  do  when  a  member  of 
a  leading  church  in  a  certain  city  vehemently  op- 
posed, and  perhaps  was  the  means  of  defeating,  a 
motion  to  call  one  of  our  best  preachers,  because 
that  preacher  in  so  far  failed  to  "  eschew  evil  "  as 
to  chew  evil  weeds  ;  albeit,  they  say,  he  was  found 
one  Saturday  night,  years  ago,  in  a  town  where  no 
tobacco  was  sold,  and  had  to  drive  eight  miles  to 
get  his  Sunday's  supply;  for  that  distinguished 
preacher  and  his  excellent  wife,  being  duly  sworn, 
depose  and  say  that  tobacco  abates  tendencies  to 
alarming  disease,  and  after  many  banishments  is 
esteemed  a  welcome  friend.  It  is  unfortunate  for 
a  minister  to  be  thus  dependent  on  a  weed,  just  as 
it  was  unfortunate  for  Christmas  Evans  that  he 
had  lost  one  eye,  and  as  it  is  for  Milburn  that  he 
has  lost  both. 

A  father  once  had  hopes  that  his  son  was  about 
to  commence  a  Christian  life.  He  had  persuaded 
him  to  give  up  the  habit  of  smoking,  which  he  had 


Hindering  Inquirers.  319 

brought  home  from  California,  and  on  sending  him 
to  a  neighboring  city  to  live,  gave  him  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  his  friend,  a  pastor  of  rare  powers 
and  of  great  success,  whom  he  hoped  would  fan 
the  feeble  flame,  and  bring  the  boy  to  Christ. 
"  Father,"  wrote  the  son,  "  I  like  the  doctor  first- 
rate.  He  knows  the  flavor  of  a  good  Havana. 
When  I  called  with  your  letter,  he  came  to  the 
door  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  asked  me  in, 
and  we  had  a  good  smoke."  I  happened  to  see 
that  father's  countenance  fall,  and  think  now  he 
had  good  ground  for  his  grief  and  pain. 

Yet  that  eminent  clergyman  is  more  unfortu- 
nate than  wrong,  for  he  says :  "  I  believe  I  am 
'  approved '  in  the  use  of  tobacco.  I  use  it  purely 
and  religiously  as  a  specific,  not  as  a  luxury,  and 
very  moderately ;  for  all  the  comfort  of  it  as  an 
indulgence,  I  would  not  carry  the  aroma  of  it  one 
day ;  it  has  relieved  me  of  miseries  which  almost 
drove  me  wild."  But  when  we  received  that  boy 
into  the  church  years  afterward,  he  said  he  had  not 
looked  at  tobacco  since  he  gave  his  heart  to  Christ ; 
and  would  as  soon  think  it  right  to  maim  his  right 
hand  as  to  touch  it  again.  There  came  with  him 
another  young  man  —  both  had  been  rather  wild  in 
the  army  —  who  could  see  nothing  wrong  in  the 
habit.  He  soon  ran  away  from  his  widowed  mother 
in  disgrace,  and  I  never  heard  of  him  again ;  while 
the  one  who  had  a  conscience  about  tobacco  is  a 
hard-working  and  useful  home  missionary  to-day. 


320  Worth  Keeping. 

"Do  you  smoke,  sir?"  I  was  asked  by  a  Chris- 
tian lady  in  a  pastoral  call,  who  was  inquiring  how 
to  gain  religious  influence  on  her  husband's  mind. 
"  I  do  not,"  I  replied.  "  Oh,  I  was  in  hopes  you 
did  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  My  husband  has  a  friend 
in ,  and  his  pastor  (naming  a  minister  I  heart- 
ily esteem)  used  to  come  in  evenings,  and  smoke 
and  play  cards  with  him,  and  he  gained  a  great 
influence  over  him,  and  finally  got  him  to  join  the 
church.  I  was  thinking  perhaps  I  could  manage 
that  way  with  my  husband."  I  had  to  confess  I 
never  smoked  a  cigar  in  my  life,  and  never  learned 
even  the  names  of  the  cards.  My  parents  had 
given  me  the  best  advantages  they  could,  but  that 
part  of  a  preparation  for  the  ministry,  in  my  case, 
had  been  left  out. 

In  one  of  our  prayer-meetings,  the  subject  of 
questionable  indulgences  happened  once  to  come 
up,  and  a  young  Scotch  brother,  now  a  successful 
New  England  pastor,  rose  and  made  a  very  short 
speech.  "  I  always  used  to  smoke,"  said  he ;  "  but 
when  I  was  converted,  the  text,  '  Happy  is  he  that 
condemneth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he 
alloweth,'  put  my  pipe  out,  and  it  has  not  been 
lighted  since." 


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